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DREAM BOATS 
AND 

OTHER STORIES 






“ SHE • TIED • MT • BOAT • TO THE • NORTH • STAR • SO • I • WOULD ■ NOT 
• GROW • UP • WHILE • SHE • WAS • GONE” • 











r°KT^AITD • AHI7 * tllSTPRIED * °F■ FAUHt) • rAIRIELt) • FDMCS 
•AHP- °TF1CK*rLEAt)AnT‘C^EATaRES- 

'•BY- 

•PUQA12- BTE.VART-VALUES j 


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AflP^m'D • TA1KY • TAlEt) 


ClARPETt- qiY- -nLW -Y°RI\- 

j^ubiepay- page_- Anp\°nrAnY- 

-ms- 

















































COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY 
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF 
TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, 
INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 


OCT 23 1918 T 

©CI.A5(>68,35 - 







TO • 

• DAVID • 

• MY • FATHER • 








THE SUNLIT SEA 


A FOREWORD 

T HERE is a far-away blue sea of unending 
wonder and belief. A fragile craft is launched 
from a Mother's arms, upon its waters. You are 
the helmsman of the vessel and you are the 
guardian. 

Safely through tempests and gales and over 
stretches of Sunlit waters you must pilot the ship. 
The path is strewn with icebergs, wreckage and 
many boats making for the same harbour. All 
the little ships make their trial voyage through the 
white-capped, dancing waves of “Let’s Play” 
and “Let’s Pretend”. 

Back into the bay of youth, where lies the haven 
of a Mother’s arms, each little vessel will drift if 
the pilot does not stupidly keep his wheel turned 
to the point on the compass that reads Grow-up- 


VII 


A FOREWORD 


• • « 
viii 

South by As-fast-as-you-can-East. The craft 
laden with a cargo, that is your heart, will surely 
return to the pleasant waters of youth unless you 
are grown up so high you cannot become as a 
little child. 

If you wish, and wish with all your heart, you 
can come to join us in our play, which in honour 
of the waves of “Let's Pretend", through which 
I hope your little craft has passed, I have called 
“Dream Boats .' 1 


PAGE 


CONTENTS 

The Sunlit Sea—a Foreword.vii 

Histories. i 

Storks . 3 

Pollen People. 6 

Second Teeth.n 

The Blooming of a Fairy Baby.12 

Moulting.15 

The Godmother Bush.. 17 

Butterfly’s Nightmare.21 

Bad Children.24 

The Reluctant Mirrors!.26 

The Fanfare.28 

Giving Thanks.31 

Fairy Ring.33 

Snakedoctor.35 

Zoom Zoom! 40 

Warfare.44 

Sand.-.46 

Stay-at-home Heart.51 

Portraits.91 

The Comet’s Tail.93 

The Daughter of a Comet King .... 100 

The Godmother.102 

“ One of the Common Decencies of Ordinary 

Social Intercourse”.105 


IX 




















X 


CONTENTS 


PAGB 

The Magic Dewdrop.107 

Cold Porridge.123 

Out of Doors.157 

Waiting Dreams.159 

A Fairy Ring to Valentine.160 

On June Winds.161 

To My Grown-Up Self.163 

Snapdragons.164 

As Posted by Legal Authority.165 

Sweet April.167 

Alone.169 

A Little Dream That Wandered .... 171 

Summer Breezes.173 

Autumn’s Colour.174 

Little Birds.176 

Dream Boats—Play.181 



















PICTURES 

IN COLOUR 

Dream Boats. Frontispiece 

“ She tied my boat to the North Star so I would 
not grow up while she was gone ” 

FACING PAGE 


Second Teeth. IO 

“ And pipe the little songs that are inside of bubbles ” 

Butterfly’s Nightmare .22 

“ Lest a nightmare should come to the fairies’ cousin 
twice removed on their mother’s side ” 

Warfare.44 

“The Mobilization of the Fairy Army” 

PICTURES IN BLACK ANDWHITE 

Storks. 4 

“ Up there, sits One— I can’t remember much about 
her” 

Pollen People. 8 

“ In the commonplace corners of the earth there 
may be a pair of pollen lovers” 

The Godmother Bush. 18 


“ Why it rains to-morrow ” 

The Reluctant Mirrors!.26 

“ Perhaps being so shiny they were mistaken by the 
fairies for mirrors ” 

Giving Thanks.32 

“The oak finds happiness in providing a refreshing 
drink for migrating fairies ” 


xi 








Xll 


PICTURES 


FACING PAGE 

Snakedoctor. 38 

“ An anodyne for swooning fairy ladies is to be car¬ 
ried past cardinal birds singing on a wistaria vine ” 

Stay-at-home Heart. 76 

“The sea-green bird sank so low that the foam of 
the waves dashed against its breast ” 

The Comet’s Tail.98 

“ Calling it a tail did not make it one ” 

The Daughter of a Comet King .... 100 

“Comet ladies drift dreamingly about the sky” 

“ One of the Common Decencies of Ordi¬ 
nary Social Intercourse ” ... 104 

“ One of the Common Decencies of Ordinary Social 
Intercourse ” 

The Magic Dewdrop. 114 

“ What was his amazement to find that the fountain 
was flowing over a maiden ” 

Cold Porridge.154 

“ The little boy kissed the spot and made it all well ” 

On June Winds . . . .". 160 

“A fragile craft, piloted by a fairy, perched like a 
star ” 

Snapdragons. 164 

“ It is watering time for the thirsting flock of pink 
and yellow dragons ” 

Sweet April.168 

“When buds are breaking and birds singing merrily, 
dance with me ” 

Autumn’s Colour.174 

“ Whence do the elves of the autumn get all the 
colour they need with which to paint the flowers, 
fruits and foliage ? ” 











HISTORIES 









STORKS 


H USH! Hush! At night when the lonely 
call of the whippoorwills made the marsh 
creep nearer than the other side of the meadow, 
Ruth Jane Crutchfield, the nurse, lay down on the 
bed beside DavkTs little boy. She told him about 
the storks that bring children and leave them 
among the ferns and the alder bushes back there 
in the marshes. 

As soon as the whippoorwills ceased calling, the 
spell broke, and the marsh returned again beyond 
the meadow where Cherry, the Jersey cow, lived. 

As the nurse’s footsteps faded away in the 
dark hall, David crept out of his bed and stole 
into mine and came close to me because it was 
a cold night. 

In a whisper he said, said he: “But where do 
the storks get ’em?” 


3 


4 DREAM BOATS 

And I said, said I: “They come from away up 
behind the stars, where the Spring comes from. 
Up there, sits One—(I can’t remember much 
about her, only that she made me think of a 
dewdrop—not such a dewdrop as you and I can 
see, but a dewdrop if it were as large as the 
whole world)—and all the children are in her lap. 

“Each one has a little harness made of ribbon. 
And there are faun babies, and fairy babies, and 
baby babies. The fauns’ harness is purple like 
grapes, and the fairies’ is silver like bubbles in 
moonlight, and the babies’ is just pink and blue; 
and that’s how the stork knows which is which. 

“Now, the storks fly up there (it’s wonderful 
the distance storks can fly, isn’t it?) and each 
one takes a baby in his beak by the loop at the 
top of the harness. Down he starts, and all the 
way down the baby practises kicking. 

“ But before they start, the One who is like 
what a dewdrop would be if it were as large as 
the whole world, gives to each baby a dandelion. 




. “UP • THERE, • SITS • ONE— * I • CANT • REMEMBER • MUCH • 

• ABOUT • HER” * 
































DREAM BOATS 5 

And she says, says she: ‘When you reach the 
lowest circle of stars this dandelion will have 
gone to seed. Then you must blow on it and 
see what time you will be born.’ 

“So when they come to the lowest circle of 
stars, puff , puff , blow all the babies on the dan¬ 
delions which have gone to seed, to see when 
they will be born. This is a very important mat¬ 
ter. But the down of the dandelion sometimes 
gets into the storks’ eyes and as they haven’t any 
memory to speak of, they make sad mistakes in 
the places where they leave the babies. Some¬ 
times fairies are left with people, and sometimes 
even fauns—though of that I am not quite sure.” 


POLLEN PEOPLE 


Balsam , Sweet Basil , and Gold Buttercup 

I N LITTLE villages of gaily painted pavilions 
live the golden people of the dusty pollen. 
Every house is set on a fragile stem, swaying back 
and forth as if waving a welcome to all flying things. 
Sometimes at the approach of storms they shield 
the doorway with a silken awning, thus protect¬ 
ing the countless family from loss by wind and 
rain. They are very proud of the names of their 
houses. And have they not a right to be? 

Acacia , Anemone , Azalia , and Amaryllis 

The children are brought up in most exclusive 
fashion, straying not beyond the petaled threshold 
before they have been formally introduced. Liv¬ 
ing close to their mothers, they think of another 

pollen child who is near its mother, roaming in 

6 


DREAM BOATS 


7 

the fields of that dream a child has when its 
mother is near. 

Oh, dream one dream for me, ye little star¬ 
faced children of a love that endures unto the 
end I 

Lily , Labernum , Larkspur , and 
Queen Anne's Lace 

Sometimes the houses introduce their children 
with a prolonged feast of nectar. Painted in 
bright colours, they exhale invitations of fra¬ 
grance to their dearly loved friends, the bees. 
The guests arrive humming their exquisite song 
of labour and cease not to sing while they par¬ 
take of the feast of honey. Departing, they 
avow their thankfulness, taking with them the 
pollen children who desire to go forth to seek 
their fortunes. 

Lupin , Lavender , and Laurel 

Again at night other houses present their 
children with parties of pale yellow and white, 


8 


DREAM BOATS 


that passers by may be attracted even in the 
darkest night. 

Primroses , Evening Glory , and the 
Moonflower Vine 

While others scatter their invitations broad¬ 
cast, and as the night advances over the earth, 
the welcoming fragrance increases, thus luring 
to their feast many coloured moths. 

Hyacinth , Heliotrope , and Mignonette 

And some give dances exclusively for the wind, 
dimly lighted parties where no refreshments are 
served. Each guest is given charge of a pollen 
child, that the child may later be carried to a 
distant meadow where it may build a fragrant 
village of its own. 

Petunia , Robin's Plantain , and the wild , 

Wild Phlox 

From early Spring until the Indian Summer, 
there are innumerable little parties, each one a 



“ IN • THE • COMMONPLACE • CORNERS • OF * THE • EARTH 
• THERE • MAY • BE • A * PAIR * OF * POLLEN • LOVERS" • 













































DREAM BOATS 


9 


festival for the exquisite purpose of sending forth 
the children to find the unchanging one who is 
to be the comrade in life's dearest adventure. 

Oleander , Cape Jasmine , Iris y and Columbine 

Therefore in the commonplace corners of the 
earth they have their sweet romances, meeting 
and recognizing the one they will cherish all the 
days of their lives. 

Sweet William, Snapdragon , and Shepherd's 

Purse 

Here you see a picture of a pair of pollen 
lovers—first-born of the ancient house of forget- 
me-not. 

On a cobweb suspended from a string-bean 
vine (that we chop down and eat for our din¬ 
ner), the lovers have found a trysting place at 
the rising of the moon. 

0 Lady's Slipper , Fuchsia , Verbena , and Rue 

“Co loo—co loo. I love you! Do, do, do,” 
says he, her lover, to her. And she, his sweet- 


io DREAM BOATS 

heart, replies to him: “Co coo to lu—Co coo 

to lu. I love you! Too, too, too.” 

They do not blush save as trees blush in the 
springtime, when in their veins flows the sap of 
innumerable flowers. 

Ring all your little bells, O Bluebells, Canter¬ 
bury Bells, and bells of the Solomon’s Seal. 

After the wedding, they settle in a seed. And 
life is a long adventure of bud and leaf and 
bloom. Thus in the renewal of themselves in 
other flowers, they live happily for ever and ever 
and ever. 

Myrtle , Mimosa , Magnolia , and Marigold 















SECOND TEETH 


F AUNS and fairies and fishes do not shed 
their first teeth and so they cannot shed their 
youth and joy. 

Babies do shed their first teeth because they 
know that second teeth will come, and nearly 
always in this distracting adventure they make 
mistakes and shed both their youth and joy. But 
now and then a baby will not shed his youth 
and joy until his second teeth are firmly rooted. 
It is these delightful creatures who can balance 
on a fish’s nose and pipe the little songs that 
are in the bursting bubbles of the foam. 

If there are not songs inside of bubbles, what 
is in them? 


ii 


THE BLOOMING OF A FAIRY 

BABY 

ALL the pleasantest creatures that inhabit the 
-LjL worlds of wind and earth and water, enter 
those worlds in a shell of some sort. 

In a stream the mother Dragon Fly leaves her 
precious treasure, where the sun, shining through 
the water, keeps the little eggs as warm as they 
should be. The mother Butterfly places her 
eggs under the leaves of the food plant upon 
w’hich the baby caterpillar, after it is hatched, 
is destined to live. And the mother Butterfly 
always chooses the right plant. In a nest of 
cobwebs, moss, and down, the mother bird keeps 
her eggs warm with the feathers of her breast. 
And thus it is with alligators, toads, and lizards, 
turtles, fish, bugs, and snakes, and all the crea¬ 
tures with which one can be so friendly. 


12 


DREAM BOATS 13 

When the moon is on the wane, the mother 
Fairy strings her eggs, which are dew drops, on 
a strand of cobweb suspended from the sweetest 
flower. She only ruffles the feathers in her 
wings, preens herself, and sits as still as any star 
watching and waiting for a lovely thing to hap¬ 
pen. When the moon has set, and the stars 
have followed after with their fading lights, the 
winged mother’s patient waiting is rewarded, 
for all that is needed to bring forth the miracle 
of a dew-shell is the image of a star reflected in 
its shining surface all through the summer night. 

Then each fairy baby lifts its head and opens 
its eyes very wide to see what will happen (and 
sticks out its lower lip, in case it should be some¬ 
thing dreadful). But a baby fairy thinks it is very 
funny to see the stars set, so it laughs at the de¬ 
clining lights. The sweetness of its laughter 
breaks the dewdrop, and it enters into the world 
smiling, and can never cease to be joyful all the 
days of its life. 


14 


DREAM BOATS 


Sometimes, though not very often, they stop 
laughing long enough to drink the dew which 
has been the little reticule of beauty to bring 
them from that world to this. 

Of course, there are some dewdrops that do 
not hatch, for a strangely sweet and subtle rea¬ 
son known only to the fairy inside. Perhaps 
they think it is pleasanter to live within a pearl 
strung on a string around a lovely lady’s neck, 
than to be a whimsical creature who goes through 
life seeking to find what prettily illogical thing 
it can do next. 


MOULTING 


W HEN you see a fairy flying through the 
air as though he did not care a winkle 
where he went, you may know he doesn't. He 
possesses a pair of horns which are better than 
another pair of eyes or an entirely new nose. 
Indeed, who can say but that gossamer stringed 
music may reach the fairy’s heart through these 
same horns? How else would he hear the mel¬ 
ody of the moonlight? 

When fairies are hatched, they have small, 
flaccid horns and limp wings. In order to work 
up the circulation of colour through the veins of 
the wings and into the tips of the horns, they 
must have exercise. 

Attaching themselves to leaves, head down 
and feet up, and hanging pendant, the newly 
hatched fairies fan the air with their wings. 


16 DREAM BOATS 

When the wings and horns are spread, then the 
greatest moment in a fairy’s whole lifetime ar¬ 
rives. On airy pinions this creature, which has 
apparently been sleeping the sleep of the dead in 
its dewdrop eggshell, flies aloft into the air, the 
playmate of sunlight and thistledown, star dust 
and moonshine. 

Now, instead of second teeth, the fairies get 
second horns. They haven’t any one to tie a 
string around the first horns to jerk them out. 
So they butt into a flower, and pull and pull and 
pull. That much done, they go away, leaving 
their old horns sticking in one of the petals. 

After the close of this adventure of horn shed¬ 
ding, called moulting, they attach themselves 
firmly to a twig, feet up, there waiting for new 
horns to grow down. For, you must surely 
know, nothing about fairies ever grows up. 


THE GODMOTHER BUSH 


T HERE are seven fairy frigates that will 
not sail forth to-night on the airy seas from 
the port of a thistle pod. 

These I have captured and as I let them drift 
from my open window I will blow a wish upon 

i 

them for seven different mothers whom I know, 
and though you might not believe it, one of 
these mothers is a mother bird. 

It may seem strange that a thistle seed has 
power to carry wishes to the fairies. But it is 
not, and I am about to tell you why. 

In the land of the fairies, that lies so near 
and yet beyond the vision of men’s eyes, fairy 
mothers do not have nursemaids with whom to 
leave their babies when they needs must fly 
away to do all those things mothers have to do; 
the things that take so long—so long. There- 

17 


18 DREAM BOATS 

fore, they make friends with spiders and ask 
them to spin webs in the bushes whereon there 
are thorns. 

When a web is spun a mother lays her baby 
in it. There the baby is safe, for the thorns 
keep all enemy creatures away. 

Before the mother leaves, she gives her baby 
the new moon for a plaything, and lying in the 
cradle, he plays and plays with the crescent 
rattle until it is turned upside down and the water 
spills out. “That is why it rains to-morrow!” 

You can make wishes for mothers come true 
only on those seven thistle seeds gathered from 

the friendly bush that has played nursemaid to 

\ 

the mother of a little fairy. 

If you desire to make a wish for your mother 
or for some one else’s mother (for it is almost, 
but not quite, as sweet to send a wish for anoth¬ 
er’s mother as it is to wish for one’s own,) 
gather seven thistle seeds from a bush wherein 
there is a spider’s web. Give them to seven 







































































DREAM BOATS 19 

children. After they have said “God bless 
Mother” on a night when there is a new moon, 
let each child open the window, just so high, but 
not high enough to fall out; make a wish; blow 
the thistle seed into the night. It will journey, 
as a special envoy, to a port on the sea of air 
where the fairies live, and there deliver your 
message. The fairies will make it come true. 

Maybe after the sweet errand is over, the seed 
will remember that it bears also the promise of a 
thistle as a precious cargo, and, casting off its 
anchor, steadfastly sail to some barren road side, 
where next summer another child will gather 
from it seven more seeds that will sail forth on a 
like quest. 

Ypu must not tell the wish you have made and 
you must not ask the fairies to send your mother 
a diamond dog-collar or an aeroplane. The 
fairies do not know about these things. You 

i 

might wish that some one would toss her a 
flower; perhaps she would like to hear music, 


and maybe it would be nice for her to sit in the 
sunshine for an hour. These I can assure you 
are the real gifts of the fairies. But in order to 
have them bestowed upon the rightful mother, 
remember, you must open your window only so 
wide; and don’t fall out. 


BUTTERFLY'S NIGHTMARE 


M OTHS are cousins to the fairies, once re¬ 
moved, on their fathers’ side, for they are 
on the wing between the dusk of evening and 
the twilight of early morning. Butterflies are 
cousins to the fairies, twice removed, on their 

{ 

mothers’ side, because they fly when the sun is 

• 

up, and the lights are shining bright in dewdrops. 

The fairies are friendly with their first cous¬ 
ins, and with their second cousins too, but they 
can live on more intimate terms with butter¬ 
flies since they are not on the wing at the same 
time. For when they are flying, they are so 
busy foraging for a dinner, that they cannot 
pause to pass the time of day. 

Striking family resemblances are often seen in 
the markings and patterns on fairies’ and moths’ 
and butterflies’ wings. 


21 


22 DREAM BOATS 

In the Dream-time, when the birds have 
ruffled their feathers and put their heads under 
their wings, all things may be found. Every 
dainty butterfly maiden is swayed to dreams by 
gentle winds on her sweet, bubble-like bed of a 
downy, dandelion seed-ball, so feathery, soft, and 
sweet. Butterflies eat the honey and pollen that 
are held within the chalice of flowers. But just 
as there are human beings who eat dinners that 
they should not, so are there butterflies who, try 
as hard as they may, cannot resist a tempting 
meal of the pollen of snapdragons, cowslips, toad¬ 
flax, or one of the irresistible dishes so tempting 

to a butterfly's palate. 

\ 

And so, all through a summer night, two 
fairies keep watch with outstretched arms under 
every butterfly’s bed, lest by chance the sleeper 
has indulged in a dinner of the pollen that gives 
one nightmare. And if, perhaps, some late 
straying wind desires to learn the time of night 
and suddenly blows her bed in bits of drifting 



“LEST • A • NIGHTMARE • SHOULD • COME • TO THE • FAIRIES’ • 
COUSIN • TWICE • REMOVED • ON • THEIR ■ MOTHER’S • SIDE’’ • 





DREAM BOATS 


23 


down from under her dreaming self, the two 
fairies are there, waiting and prepared to catch 
that cousin, twice removed, on their mother’s 
side. 


BAD CHILDREN 


F AIRY children are never bad until they 
have cut their first teeth, and no one knows 
that they are bad then except their mother. 
She thinks it is a pretty thing, but she pretends 
she doesn’t. If she had a corner, she would 
stand them in it. As she has none, she takes 
each naughty child’s chin in her hand, very 
gently, and says: 

“Child, you have lost your nose. Go look for 
it. And if you don’t stick you finger in the hole 
where your nose used to be, until you find it, you 
will find a Gold Nose at the same time.” 

Now, the fairies never think. For, if they did, 
they would see that they would have no use for a 
Gold Nose even if they found one. So, before 
they stop to think, off sails each naughty fairy up 
into the air to look for its nose, with its hands for 


24 


DREAM BOATS 


25 


oars, so that it cannot stick its fingers into the 
hole where its nose used to be. 

Fanning its wings, it sails straight up into the 
air and, on still wings, drifts down again. And 
up and down again it sails, looking all over the 
sky for its nose; which is another proof that it 
does not think, for what, pray, would its nose be 
doing there? Until, by and by, it forgets all 
about the Nose of Gold, and forgets it is using its 
hands for oars. And then- 

Well, of course, you know what it does at once. 
Just what you did with your tongue when you 
lost your tooth. 



THE RELUCTANT MIRRORS! 


W HY, I wonder, do grapes, certain berries, 
and some fruits, hide their purple faces 
within a dim veil of violet mists? Rose-coloured 
and purple plums, damsons, all dark grapes, and 
berries that are blue, retire behind veils of frosty 
shadows. 

Is it that they, because of a strange, sweet rea¬ 
son, have taken the veil and live with their shining 
selves, like nuns, hidden in a silence of exquisite 
pain? 

Perhaps, being so shiny, they were mistaken by 
the fairies for mirrors, which, when they were 
created, was not in the least intended, and fruits 
as they are, born of a royal purple lineage, resent 
certain winged creatures staring at their own like¬ 
nesses, reflected in the fruits’ shining rind. Maybe 

they did not understand their vanity, and thought 

26 



• “ PERHAPS - BEING • SO • SHINY • THEY • WERE MISTAKEN * BY • 
• THE • FAIRIES FOR • MIRRORS" • 






































DREAM BOATS 


2 7 


that the fairies stood a little apart and glared at 
them with an excessive rudeness, for no reason 
at all. 

And so, with a certain self-consciousness which 
comes in fruit that is born of a purple parentage, 
they remark with tilted noses: “I think we had 
better retire, my dears, behind the privacy of our 
veils!” 


THE FANFARE 


E YES have we with which to see; a nose for 
smelling; tongue for tasting; ears for hear¬ 
ing; and a heart we have with which to love. 
The fairies have as many senses as human beings 
have, and they have a few more, but they don’t 
know it. 

The fairies do not go to school as children do. 

They learn everything they have to know from 

their mothers, as bugs, and birds, and bunnies 

do, and as babies learn all the nicest things that 

they know from their mothers,—and the only 

things they can never forget. 

The fairies have a sense that stays up in the 

little horns that grow out of their foreheads. All 

flying creatures have it growing somewhere. It 

keeps them from butting into anything, and they 

can fly anywhere they like, and do not have to 

28 


DREAM BOATS 


29 


look where they are flying. Human beings do 
not have this sense, for if they do not look where 
they are walking, they will stump their toes. 

And the fairies possess a sense of play that 
human beings have when they are born into 
this world, but nearly always they lose it. If a 
fairy feels his play getting lost, he must lie on 
his back and each member of the tribe to which 
he belongs has one tickle at him, which is the 
very best medicine for this malady. 

This, you must surely know, is catching. 

If it cannot be tickled back into the place it 
belongs, the Apothecary, with his quill made of 
a feather from a starling’s tail, and with the 
crimson juice of the pokeberry weed, writes a 
sign which is posted on the patient’s chest. 

It reads: “growing upi” 

When the dreaded words appear, it is a sign 
that he is to be exiled from his tribe. Silently a 
solemn ceremony is performed. 

A petal from a flower is stuck on a stalk of 


30 


DREAM BOATS 


grass. The whole tribe march with a little 
droning sound to an open place in the weeds. 
He who is to be expelled holds the petal high 
and cries: 

“Fanfare! Fanfare! Fanfare!” 
and the wind blows the petal in the direction he 
must take. 

Then everyone in the tribe trims one finger¬ 
nail in a fond farewell to the one who is leaving. 
In return he sticks out his tongue at each one of 
them, and flies off as the kindly wind has di¬ 
rected him, to find a new tribe. 

This seems very sad, but it isn’t. The fairies 
are everywhere, and a strange creature only has 
to answer one question to be admitted into a 
tribe, and that question is: 

“Can you chew on both sides?” 


GIVING THANKS 


E VERYBODY and everything in this world 
wants a child of some sort of its own. 
There are some who are thankful for one child, 
others who are not contented when they have a 
hundred. 

The oak tree, after a long time of wanting 
many children every year, has learned that there 
is not room for all the children it wants to be 
brought up in proper oak-tree fashion. There¬ 
fore, it spills, out of the little cups in which they 
sit, those acorns that grow straight up on the 
branches, thus giving a chipmunk a delightful 
dinner. The little cups, being empty, soon fill 
with a cool drink of drops of dew and rain. 

Now, there are fairies who cannot abide 
frost, and migrate with their winged kindred, 
the birds, to warm southern lands. Nothing 

31 


32 


DREAM BOATS 


makes one so thirsty as long and high flights, 
and so the oak finds happiness in providing a 
refreshing drink for these birdlike beings as they 
stop in its branches to rest their wearied wings. 

Therefore, for a dinner is the chipmunk 
thankful; for a refreshing drink to a thirsting 
throat is every migrating fairy thankful; and for 
little loving services to others is the oak tree 
thankful, which, after it has seen the joy in a 
fairy’s face when the thirst is quenched, says in 
a soft rustling of russet leaves: “Oh, dear! Oh, 
dear! It is almost as sweet to be kind to 
another’s child, as it is to be kind to a child of 
one’s own! ” 



“THE • OAK • FINDS • HAPPINESS • IN • PROVIDING -A REFRESHING 
• DRINK • FOR • MIGRATING • FAIRIES” • 





















FAIRY RING 

{Suggested by Jean Ingelow) 


T HE tribe of fairies that are called the “One- 
foot ones” cannot abide the cold weather. 
And so, with the first descent of that obnoxious 
and destructive creature, Mr. Jonathan Frost, 
they bury themselves. 

As the crimson leaves dance down the au¬ 
tumn breezes, they form themselves into little 
circles, and go up the grass in swerving circles, 
turning their toes in; and down the grass in even 
circles turning their toes out. And up, toeing 
out; and down, toeing in! Up, toeing out. Down, 
toeing in. Until one of them gives a call like a 
singing bird on a golden noon in springtime: 

“Oh, speral, speral! Oh, holy, holy! Oh, 
clear away, clear away; clear up, clear up!” 

And each digs a little hole. 

33 


34 DREAM BOATS 

The one who is first to finish his hole jumps 
in, and his next-door neighbour covers him up, 
and then jumps into his own hole and gets 
covered up in his turn. 

Then around, and around, and around, until 
there is only one left. He flies off and joins 
another circle, hoping that he will have better 
fortune than to be the last the next time. 

Once upon a time I asked a One-foot one: 
“'Why do you do it? ” 

The fairies never have a reason for anything. 
They say, “Old Mother Fate makes us do it. 
For that that is, is; and when it is, it is as it is, 
that is the reason that it is.” (Which, if one is 
a fairy, is a very good reason for such a de¬ 
lightful performance.) 

And the next day, they sprout, and come up. 
They are not fairies at all, but those who were 
good children are Mushrooms , and those who 
were bad children are Toadstools. 


SNAKEDOCTOR 


4LACK-THE-DAYI Dear me! Whatever 
shall I do? 

A fairy maiden has swooned in the shadow of 
a melon vine! 

Ding-dong-dell! Ding-dong-dell! 

Ring all the bells in your purple belfry, O 
Brother Columbine! 

Send the tinkle ringing around, and around, 
all ye little flowers that bear as your bloom a 
bell, unto the time of its echoing through the 
daffy-down-dilly and thus awaken the dreaming 
dragon fly. 

O pollen-powdered clappers, strike your flower 
bells, sending forth a resonance of sounds on 
every wave of sweet odour that arises from your 
silken throats! 

Are you human folk aware that fairy ladies 

35 


36 DREAM BOATS 

fly forth in the evening in order that they may * 
bathe in the sweet winds of twilight, and 
perchance have a dinner with those creatures 
that partake of a silken soft meal by starlight? 

Twinkle tinkle! Tinkle twinkle! 

Ring! oh, ring, Sweet Columbine! 

A lovely lady has fallen in a swoon beneath 
the leaves of a melon vine. 

Fairy ladies never faint save when they look 
into the blue eyes of a lover who has forsaken 
his loved one in May. 

Therefore, O Snakedoctor, hasten with your 
leaf litter to a lady in sore distress. 

Behold, at last, he comes and the pale green¬ 
winged stretcher bearers tenderly lift up the 
fairy maiden and lay her on their leaf. 

“Ahem! Ahem!” says grave Doctor Dragon 
Fly. “A heaping eyeful of loveliness immediate¬ 
ly.” 

Then he counts and counts her minute 
pulse. 


DREAM BOATS 


37 


“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Very 
weak I Very weak! 

“O Little Elves of Loving Kindness, bear her 
on your swift, glad wings past the rarest aspect 
in the garden. 

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. 
Without another pulse beat I can effect no 
cure.” 

Over the gilly-flower and over the sweet 
rocket, they bear the dragon fly’s fair patient, 
a-searching for her lost pulse beat. 

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven-” 

Still seeking, they float with her through the 
aromatic odours arising from the bergamot and 
herb o’grace, and drift by the drooping heads of 
love-lies-a-bleeding. 

Would you human folk care to know the 
Snakedoctor’s balm for a fair lady who lies in 
a swoon? 

His prescriptions are compounded solely for 
the eye and the ear. 



38 


DREAM BOATS 


The Anodyne. 

It is Springtime! A cardinal bird woos his 
mate on a wistaria vine. 

Sings he in his song to her:— 

“Violet’s blue, blue—Twinkle tinkle! 

Lavender s green, green. 

When 1 am king, king—Tinkle twinkle! 

You shall be queen, queen.” 

While his mate dreams of a little bird in its shell. 


What lost pulse could resist that? 

“O dear Doctor! O dear Doctor!” softly hums 

i 

the fairy lady as she beholds his healing cure. 
Twinkle tinkle! Tinkle twinkle! Thus did 


the columbine swing on the wind of evening. 
Will not you human folk admit that its swaying 
brings such sweet results? 

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,——” 
O dear! O dear!— “Eight!” 


Found is the little lost pulse beat. Therefore, 
cured is the fainting fairy lady. Therefore, 
proud is the learned dragon fly. 

And as for you human folk, would you not do 




} 



“AN • ANODYNE • FOR • SWOONING • FAIRY * LADIES • IS • TO * BE 
CARRIED • PAST • CARDINAL • BIRDS * SINGING • ON * A • 

• WISTARIA • VINE” • 
































DREAMBOATS 39 

well to take his nostrum? At least beware lest 
you increase too much his labours. 

O lovers, leave not your mates in Maytime. 
And you who are lonely, return to your loved 
ones at once. If not in honour of Love and the 
Spring, then for the sake of fairy ladies who may, 
perchance, look into your eyes, and hence fall in 
a swoon within the cool shadow of a melon vine. 


ZOOM, ZOOM! 


Z OOM, Zoom! Zoom, Zoom! 

It is time for all little crawling creatures 
to go home and say, “God bless Mother and 
Father, and make me a good little bug,” and 
jump into their beds. 

Zoom, Zoom! Zoom, Zoom! 

It is the time for the loveliest lady of all the 
ladies who dwell in the land of the fairies, to 
take her evening walk. 

Fourteen fairy maidens, for fourteen moonlit 
nights, ripped away the tissue of leaves to obtain 
the veins of lacy net which forms her overskirt. 
Others held the distaff and spun and wove her 
train from stamens of moonflowers and evening 
glory. 

Of all the ladies who sojourn in the land of 

fairies, she alone is indulged with the privilege 

40 


DREAM BOATS 


4i 


of wearing two maple seeds fastened to a ribbon 
that is bound around her wrist. Others, less 
favoured, are allowed only one. 

Fairy ladies dare not lead little dogs on leashes 
between the avenues of weeds, lest all suddenly, 
they should have a fancy to fly up and soar over 
a blooming bush, in order that they may bathe 
in the odour thereof. In such a case, the little 
dog would hold them down to the earth. So, 
fairy ladies lead forth a moth, leashed on a thread 
of spider's silk, that their pets may float with 
them through perfumed paths. 

This loveliest of all the fairy ladies is surround¬ 
ed by a circle of blue musicians, each piper 
blowing the same note on his pipe: 

Zoom, Zoom I Zoom, Zoom! 

And thus in the hour of pastime, fairy ladies 
are thoughtful enough to perform little services 
for others. For, when these pipes sound, all the 
little crawling creatures know it is time to go 
home. 


42 


DREAM BOATS 


Zoom, Zoom! Zoom, Zoom! 

The little pageant is passing beneath the 
branches of a horse-chestnut tree, which is trying 
to bring up her children in a highly polished 
fashion. Five weeks longer of delicious sleep 
on the tree is allotted them before their shells 
pop and they fall down into the world to seek 
their fortunes. 

And yet, what fortunes can be theirs except 
to be beautiful, as they lie in the grass? 

Zoom, Zoom! Zoom, Zoom! 

How could even the most well-behaved chest¬ 
nut children sleep amid such noise? So they 
make faces at, and say dreadful words in horse- 
chestnut language to, the lady who is the uncon¬ 
scious disturber of their sleep. 

One stops complaining long enough to look 
at his brothers. He laughs and laughs and 
laughs, until he loosens his stem!—and no 
wonder. 

Now, had this tale been told you a second 


DREAM BOATS 


43 


later than the present moment, you might have 
learned how he fell off the tree five weeks be¬ 
fore his mother intended that he should. 


WARFARE 

{The Mobilization of the Fairy Army) 


HE fairies do everything that human be- 



A ings do, but cut their second teeth. This 
they cannot do, because they do not shed their 
first teeth. 

Therefore, the fairies have measles, mumps, 
and war. 

Here you see the mobilization of the Fairy 
Army. They have acorn helmets, and their 
cruellest weapon is a grass-blade sword—one of 
the blades of grass that grow up, bend over, and 
wave back and forth on the gentlest wind of 
June. These grass-blades, when blown on as 
you hold them between the thumbs, thus, make 
fine whistles. 

The Major General of the Fairy Army does 
not say, as Major Generals usually do: “Ready! 


44 




"THE • MOBILIZATION • OF • THE • FAIRY • ARMY 











DREAM BOATS 


45 


Aim! Fire!—Bang! Shoot everybody in sight!” 

On the contrary, he says: “Thumbs up! Toes 
out! Fly softly to your enemy and, with your 
grass-blade sword, strike him very gently on the 
right cheek—smile sweetly; and strike him very 
gently on the left cheek, and smile sweetly. 
Then, in humble fashion, turning your toes in, 
fly back to your own camp in a glorious flight 
of victory!” 


SAND 


S WISH—swash; swish—swash. 

Adorning themselves in white caps of innu¬ 
merable bubbles, the waves break into the quiet 
of the sands. 

Swish—swash; swish—swash. 

In curling feathers of foam the waves roll into 
the sands’ domain as far as they dare, and hastily 
withdraw. 

Swish—swash; swish—swash. 

With an endless lapping they mark their in¬ 
trusion and departure by a wet amethyst trail 
that follows the shining reaches of the shore. 

The fairies do not live for ever in the invisible 
land of fairies. They die after a period of exquis¬ 
ite existence of laughter, merriment, and mirth. 
In the unsalted water of a lake, the tribe to 


DREAM BOATS 


47 


which he belongs buries the dead fellow creature 
with a ceremony of exceeding sweetness. The 
warm light of the sun and the cool moonlight 
shining through the endless tossing of the waves, 
here and there, purify the little beings, until 
soon there remains, of what was once a fairy: a 
shell, a frame, a grain of amber, amethyst, or 
orange sand. 

In the land in which fairies dwell, little loving 
services to others are the greatest joys they know. 
What else could their Paradise be save a place 
wherein they create loveliness that human beings’ 
endless quest for beauty may be somewhat 
satisfied? 

After the purification by the warmth of the 
sun, the cool light from the moon, and the wash¬ 
ing of the waves, they assemble in vast hosts on 
the shores of a lake, speck by speck, grain by 
grain—amber, saffron, and silver—a million tiny 
souls of fine, fine sand; wee particles of dust to 
which they have returned. 


48 DREAMBOATS 

Innumerable as the constellations, with hush, 
stillness, and peace, they sift like a silent tempest 
into little vales and plateaux, each hot dry plain 
bordered by faded-gold beach grass. The shad¬ 
ows of the stalks move back and forth. When 
the wandering wind, with its uneven winnowing, 
approaches a stalk of grass, the stem bends, and 
around and around in a silver furrow trails the 
mighty plume, bowed in a swoon to the earth 
by ardent wooing. 

A stronger current of wind from another di¬ 
rection will soon obliterate the furrowed circle, 
cleaning the surface of the plain as a child with 
a sponge erases the long sums of division from 
its slate. It is thus prepared for new carving in 
high or low relief—the paired footprints of furred 
creatures, or the bold tracks of sea-birds. 

And then the whole surface of the plateau is 
spoiled with swerving line upon line of undulat¬ 
ing waves without foam. And yet the soundless 
billows mount so high that the crest of every 


DREAM BOATS 


49 


wave is followed by a thin shadow of lavender. 
On all sides stretch wave upon wave of wind¬ 
blown sand that will give no ship a voyage save 
some bronze leaf that makes for no earthly port. 

Flowing and trailing, the dust-souls of de¬ 
parted fairies pile themselves into miniature 
mountains where we may stand and behold the 
stars and the spaces between the stars. Every 
amber fairy-shell is willing to be submerged in 
immeasurable damp depths so that those who 
are fortunate enough to be sown on high may 
see the untold myriads of stars. In their eager¬ 
ness to give to some one the gift of a sight of 
limitless pastures of beauty, impulsively shifting 
in a blinding flight, they cover flowers and 
bushes and trees. And thus their little shining 
selves shroud the forest they have stifled. 

They withdraw themselves in trailing veils 
from the roots of trees and leave gaunt forms to 
be swept by the wind. With the changing 
sapphire lights, they pour a mountain of grains 


of sand as a grave-cloth over evergreen trees, 
leaving a valley that might have been moulded 
on the face of the moon. 

In the springtime they crowd their hills and 
valleys with flowers that recall the departed 
hours of youth. With an inward glow that 
drenches the night, they trace some cousinship 
with the innumerable stars. 

There is no sound save the lapping of the 
waves and the soughing of winds in the trees. 
The Dunes of Sand are the fairies’ Paradise, 
where they are eternally happy, making endless 
beauty and creating a pavilion of silence into 
which we too can enter and find a sanctuary of 
sweet peace and rest. 


STAY-AT-HOME 


HEART 


















STAY-AT-HOME HEART 


T HE castle of the King, who ruled over the 
Kingdom on the Silver Cliffs, crowned the 
highest peak of the white rocks that rose out of 
the blue, blue sea. On the top the cliffs were 
flat, and there the palace stood. It was built of 
white stones, with many turrets and innumerable 
windows. Very white and steep were the cliffs, 
at the foot of which the fishermen’s houses were 
crowded together along the seashore. When the 
sun set, beyond the sea, every crystal window 
flamed with the reflection thereof. And out on 
the sea the fishermen, from their boats, could 
see the castle shining on the white rocks, like a 
silver crown on a gray-headed king. 

On the fourteenth day of July the whole castle 
was aflutter with excitement. The christening 
of the Princess Clio Clementine Caroline 


53 


54 DREAM BOATS 

Cyclamen Candace Columbine was the most 
magnificent christening that had ever been 
known in the Kingdom on the Silver Cliffs. 

All the bells in the castle rang out as the 
procession trailed over the carved yellow stones 
in the courtyard. Through the lilies and small 
pomegranates growing at intervals in large blue 
jars, the Grand Almoner scattered broadcast the 
choicest sweetmeats, while he led forth the train, 
with the heralds blowing upon their brass horns. 

The Archbishop and the Privy Councillors 
came next, attended by the Prime Minister, 
courtiers, chancellors and the lords of the Court, 
the under-secretary and the clerks. The father 
and mother of the little Princess, the King and 
Queen, followed the clerks. The Junior page 
boys scattered wild flowers in the path before 
the Chief Cradle-rocker, who carried the little girl. 

Six names were to be given the little Princess. 
She was clothed in the same christening robe of 
lace in which her mother, and her grandmother, 


DREAM BOATS 


55 


and her great-grandmother had once upon a 
time been christened. Following the nurses to 
the little Princess, in proper order, marched 
the Princesses of the Court, Duchesses and 
Marchionesses, Countesses and Viscountesses, 
Baronesses, Maids of Honour, Ladies of the 
Bedchamber, guards, grooms and lackeys, the 
cooks and scullions. 

When the grand procession had slowly passed 
through the doorway of the chapel, the chimes 
were silent. The King commanded every one 
of his subjects, including the bell-ringers, to be 
present at the great event. 

When the christening ceremony was over the 
Grand Almoner asked the people to follow him 
into the garden of the castle. Suddenly the bells 
began to peal forth again, and guns were fired to 
announce the importance of the affair. Flags 
waved everywhere on poles, as the crowd came 
down the broad paths laughing, and singing, and 
shouting, while the soldiers of the King came to 


DREAM BOATS 


56 

a halt and presented arms. All the people who 
were ruled by the King of the Silver Cliffs were 
wild with delight when they heard that their 
princess was now the possessor of six names. 

“Long live the Princess! Long live our little 
Princess!” shouted the Marchionesses and the 
scullery maids. 

A feast was spread under the horse-chestnut 
trees. And on the lawn, fountains poured forth 
streams of water, just for this especial day. 
Everyone was presented with a sweetmeat that 
was hidden within a heart-shaped paper. Each 
guest ate his sweetmeat as he received it, save 
one—an uninvited guest who had come and 
witnessed the christening, unnoticed. The light 
that shines in the young of heart was gleaming 
in her eyes. She moved forward, like a young 
girl, in her sea-green cloak. Around her waist 
was bound a girdle of rainbow-coloured ribbons. 

You must now suspect, from what I told you 
of the way she looked, that she was a fairy. She 



DREAM BOATS 


57 


was a fairy indeed. All this took place in the 
days when every good child had a fairy god¬ 
mother—not so very long ago. 

Now, if all godmothers are fairies, then one 
fairy still dwells in the world to-day. I know a 
boy who has a godmother. 

This sister of the fairies did not eat the sweet¬ 
meat with the other guests. She hid it in a 
reticule that hung on a cord from her wrist. 
When she was sure that all the guests were 
engrossed in the feast of sugar-plums, nectarines, 
eitrons, and other delightful things that were 
now being passed amongst them by the pages, 
she withdrew from the crowds gathered around 
the tables, and went to have one look at the little 
princess that was permitted everyone present. 

As she stood at the foot of the royal cradle, 
she spread her arms, like the wings of a bird on 
the point of flying. 

“I am your Godmother,” she said, scarcely 
above a whisper. 


DREAM BOATS 


58 

‘‘I came uninvited to your christening. My 
sisters, the fairies, sent me here, to present to 
you three gifts. 

“Their first gift to you is a name. By the 
fairies you will be called Cynthia, because, you 
shall be as beautiful as the crescent moon setting 
in a twilight of April. 

“And the fairies give you a star, all for your 
own. The North Star is yours. You must watch 
for this star every cloudless night. If you never 
fail to bear loving kindness in your heart for my 
kinsfolk while you look at your star, when, 
someday, love comes into your life it will never, 
never leave you.” 

The little Princess Cynthia took her thumb 
out of her mouth. She lay very still, in her 
silken covers, as her godmother gave her the 
last gift. 

“ Listen well, Godchild, as I give you the 
third gift. You are granted the privilege of 
making one wish—only a single wish that will 


DREAM BOATS 


59 


surely come true. Cherish the last gift. Save it 
until you are in need of fairy consolation.” 

This may seem strange to you, if you have 
tried to talk to a baby. But it is not. The 
fairies always talk to babies, that is, before babies 
learn to say human words. Babies learn all the 
strange, pretty things they do from the fairies. 
Sometimes they even say fairy words—strange 
little sounds, like crowing, that set the mother 
wondering what her child is trying to say. 

After many years, the three gifts from the 
fairies were the only things Cynthia remembered 
of all that came to pass on the day she was 
christened. 

The fairy godmother returned to the crowds 
that were now talking and laughing in gay 
groups in the garden. After she had eaten one 
nectarine, she moved quietly to the great gates 
of the castle. Then she slipped away, without 
any one, save the Princess Cynthia, having no¬ 
ticed that she was among the guests. But the 


60 DREAMBOATS 

Princess said “ta ta,” and other fairy words, as 

she again slipped her pink thumb into her mouth. 

The fairy godmother hurried away from the 
festivities, which lasted until after the sun had 
set. She had promised the fairies to be present 
at another christening. It was to take place in a 
fisherman’s cottage that stood in the fishing 
village, tucked away among the rocks, at the 
foot of the Silver Cliffs. No one witnessed this 
event, save the mother and father of the boy 
with eyes as blue as the gentians that grew 
beside the stream in the forest up on the cliffs. 
There was no feast or celebration as this boy 
was named David, after his father, his grand¬ 
father, and his great-grandfather, who had, in 
their turn, been fishermen to the kings that had 
ruled over the Kingdom on the Cliffs. 

When the fairy godmother had given three 
gifts to the fisherman’s son, she retired to the 
land of the fairies. There she was very happy 
and lived for a long time. 


DREAM BOATS 


61 


Now, if you are a friend of the fairies, you 
may call this little girl Cynthia, as I am privileged 
to do. But, if for any reason, you are not on 
good terms with the fairy-folk, you must call her 
all six names, given to her by the Archbishop at 
her christening, Clio Clementine Caroline Cycla¬ 
men Candace Columbine. 

The Princess Cynthia grew up, as little prin¬ 
cesses are wont to do. Still she played with her 
golden ball, in the King’s garden, by the pool 
that splashed incessantly as the water from the 
fountain fell into it. 

Down on the white sands of the beach, David 
grew strong and fair and brave. Just as it should 
be, he became a fisherman, as his father and his 
grandfather had been good fishermen in their 
day. Every morning, David went out upon the 
sea, in one of the fishing boats, with his father 
and the other fishermen. At the hour when the 
reflection of the setting sun shone in the castle 
windows, they returned with the boats filled with 


62 


DREAM BOATS 


shining fish. When the fishermen caught a fine 
fish, they brought it to the kitchen door of the 
castle and gave it to the cook. 

Every evening, when the sky was clear, the 
Princess Cynthia looked far over the sea and up 
to her star. Then she would send a message of 
love to her fairy godmother. And down on the 
sea, David looked up at the shining turrets of 
the castle, from the boats, as they returned to the 
shore. 

Cynthia had scarcely reached the age of six¬ 
teen when many kings sought her hand for the 
young princes of the neighbouring kingdoms. 
One day, her father, having perceived the wealth 
of some of the kings, called his daughter to him. 

“My dear child,” he said, “the time is 
approaching when you must give up playing, 
and prepare to be a queen. You shall have a 
husband and I a son-in-law. I am wiser than 
you are, therefore I shall choose a husband for 
you. Play on with your golden ball. When I 


DREAM BOATS 63 

have found the proper prince for your heart and 
hand, I will call you from your play.” 

Before the King could choose among the 

many suitors, a strange prince arrived. He 

came from a kingdom twelve thousand leagues 

away. He was so rich and powerful that the 

$ 

King could not resist listening to his address. 

The sun w T as shining on the pool in the King's 
garden, making the water of the fountain glisten 
like stars as it leaped into the air. The little 
Princess rolled her golden ball from the shadow 
of the mimosa tree into the sunshine. Her 
golden hair gleamed like the primroses that grew 
in a circle around the fountain. She was far too 
happy in her play to lose one moment of it. 
Therefore she sent one of her maids to peep 
through a break in the syringa hedge. There 
the little maid was to see the visiting prince. 
Then, when Cynthia grew tired playing with her 
ball, she could hear how the man looked to 
whom she was to give her heart and her hand. 


64 DREAM BOATS 

Especially, did she bid the maid listen to the 
words the Prince said to her father. 

The maid stood on tiptoes and looked through 
the branches of the hedge. She saw a large 
coach, shining in the sunlight. The wheels 
were gilded and the cushions were red, with 
many tassels that waved on the wind. It was 
drawn by eight horses as white as snow. The 
harness and reins were of red leather. The 
steeds started impatiently and their hoofs stamp¬ 
ed the flagstones. A number of footmen in red 
coats, armed and mounted on white horses, 
were grouped around the coach. 

The maid listened, but the horses and foot¬ 
men made such a noise that she could hear 
nothing the rich Prince said to the King, save 
that he did not have a mother. 

When she returned to the pool, the Princess 
Cynthia had forgotten the errand on which she 
had sent her maid. Therefore, they tossed the 
golden ball into the air, until the sun moved 


DREAM BOATS 65 

behind the castle turrets, and the garden turned 
cool in the shadow. A page brought tea to the 
Princess in the garden. The visiting prince 
drove away amid a clatter of hoofs and wheels. 
This reminded the Princess that she had not 
asked the maid what manner of man this was to 
whom she was commanded to give her heart. 
She asked the question with her mouth full of 
cooky and jam. 

“He is old and fat with a long red beard/' 
replied the maid. 

“Ugh! And what did he say?” 

“‘My father is the King of the Sunken 
Meadow; I have no mother/” quoted the maid, 
affecting haughtiness. 

“I will not give him my heart and my hand,” 
Cynthia said, as she left the table and cast her 
ball into the air. It fell with a splash into the 
water of the pool and was lost amongst the long 
swaying stems of the water-lily pads. 

After the King had eaten his supper, he sent 


66 DREAMBOATS 

for the Princess Cynthia. He told her he had 

chosen a fine and proper husband for her. 

“He is the Prince of the Sunken Meadow. 
He is very rich and in a little while will be a 
king. Then you will be a queen.” 

“I do not want to be a queen. I would 
rather just be happy. Nothing will induce me 
to marry this prince, father. I do not want to 
go twelve thousand leagues away. I want to 
stay at home, beside my own blue sea.” 

Cynthia was determined, and poked out her 
lower lip, which, in Cynthia, expressed stubborn¬ 
ness. 

“Hoity-toity!” said the King. This he never 
said but when he was provoked. “Why not? 
—pray tell me.” 

“I have heard that he has three wrinkles across 
the back of his neck; the prince to whom I give 
my hand shall not have one wrinkle. He has 
a beard, a long red beard; the prince to whom 
I give my heart must love butter, or else I could 


DREAMBOATS 67 

not endure him. Now, how on earth can a 
buttercup prove that any one loves butter, if a 
long red beard covers up his chin? 

“Worst of all, he admitted that he had no 
mother. I will not marry a man who has no 
mother!” 

And she took refuge in the arms of her own 
mother with such pitiful and tender trust that 
no one but a king who has gout could have had 
such a hard heart. 

“ Hoity-toity1” said the King again, which 
was a very bad sign. He withdrew from the 
room, limping on a crutched stick. 

He ordered the First Lord of the Court to shut 
up his daughter in a high turret in a remote corner 
of the castle, where she could speak to no person 
for eight days. Cynthia pleaded with her father. 
But all her entreaties were to no purpose. Every¬ 
one in the kingdom must obey the King. He 
then ceased to think on the subject. The little 
Princess, seeing what her father had done, fell 


68 


DREAM BOATS 


down in a swoon, and a guard carried her ten¬ 
derly up the winding stairway. 

Eight days the Princess Cynthia sat among 
her cushions, in a room in the turret with the 
long circling stairs, winding her distaff. But 
often she had to untangle the matted thread. 
Eight evenings, as the fishermen’s boats returned 
homeward over the sea, she looked out of the large 
round window, waiting for the sun to set. When 
the light faded from the sky, the steadfast star would 
shine down on her. It was her only consolation. 

She watched the line of boats draw near the 
beach. The fishermen looked up from the sea 
at the weather-cock on the castle turret, swing¬ 
ing to and fro on the wind of the evening, and 
the sunlight, shining on the glass in the win¬ 
dows, dazzled their eyes. The golden ball was 
lost in the pool in the King’s garden. In the 
wistaria vines, that trailed from the foot of the 
cliffs up to the window in the castle turret, the 
ring-doves cooed their saddest twilight notes. 


DREAM BOATS 


69 

“Surely, of all the people who live in my 
father’s kingdom,” thought the little imprisoned 
Princess, “there is none so lonely and sad of 
heart as I am.” 

The light faded in the sky. She felt that her 
heart must surely break. 

“How long am I to be held a captive in my 
father’s prison?” she sighed. 

Over the sea the stars began to twinkle. As 
she blew a kiss out of the window, for the fair¬ 
ies, she sent a message of love and belief in 
them. 

The silence of the night was broken by a 
ringing knock on the door, followed by the 
entrance of the King and Queen. Two 
men stepped inside the room with flaming 

torches. 

“Are you ready for your wedding to the 
Prince of the Sunken Meadow?” asked her 
father, the ruler of all the people who lived in 
his kingdom. 


70 


DREAM BOATS 


“I am not ready, Father, because there will 
not be any wedding to that Prince,” she mildly 
replied. 

“ We will see!” roared the king, “we will see!” 

He hit the floor with his stick, calling to the 
Queen to follow him at once. 

“On the fourteenth day from to-day you will 
marry whomsoever I wish. I am the ruler of 
this house and I see that my subjects obey!” 

The Queen took Cynthia in her arms and 
kissed her many times. Cynthia laid her head 
on her mother’s shoulder. Surely this place 
would not fail her now. 

“My poor little child,” wept the mother with 
her heart full of pain. “I am your mother, but 
I am powerless to save you from this great hurt. 
I, who love you better than anything in the 
world, must submit to your father’s cruelty.” 

“Come at once, wife!” angrily shouted the 
King from without the door. 

The Queen laid a bunch of wild flowers on 


Cynthia’s lap. She left her child alone in the 
dark tower. 

The knocking of the King’s stick on the 
steps faded away down the stairway. Fainter 
and fainter grew the sound of the footsteps of 
these two whose love for each other had ceased 
to give any light in their lives a few years after 
the birth of their daughter. 

Left in the darkness, Cynthia wiped the tears 
from her eyes. She looked out upon the sea 
and then up to the stars that w r ere now shining 
above the dark water. Very sorrowful she was 
and sad and sweet, like a pansy hidden among 
many leaves, as she sat in the midst of the 
cushions. 

Again Cynthia was beginning to cry, when 
suddenly she remembered her fairy godmother. 
What godmother ignores the need of a child, 
especially when that child has been deserted by 
those who should cherish her? Therefore, she 
thought, would there be any other time in her 


72 DREAM BOATS 

whole life when she would need, more than at 
this time, the fulfilling of the wish the fairies 
had granted her on the day she was christened. 
Surely no greater ill-fortune could befall her. 
She was a prisoner in her father’s house, with 
her only hope of liberty the marriage to a man 
who did not have a mother. 

Thus she sat all through the night, unable to 
determine whether or not this was the proper time 
to ask her one assured wish of the fairies. But 
how could she be sure of wishing wisely? She was 
still so young. All the days of her life had 
passed so quickly by. She had only played 
carelessly with her golden ball. What else did 
she know to make her happy, but to go on 
playing with her golden ball? She did not 
know what to ask of the fairies, that would save 
her from the cruel plan her father seemed deter¬ 
mined to carry out. 

The stars faded one by one as the gray light 
of dawn spread over the sky. When the first 


DREAM BOATS 


73 


ray of the rising sun threw a gold beam upon 
the sea the fishermen rowed their boats out and 
cast the nets into the water. 

Worn and tired, after the long, sleepless night, 
Cynthia was still unable to determine what 
would save her from this plight. Not knowing 
why she did so, she arose and walked very 
slowly to the window. With the same faith in 
her heart that had made her find the North 
Star in the sky every night, she raised her hands 
as if in prayer. She asked her godmother, 
wherever she might be, in some way to come to 
her or to send a message that would tell her what 
it was she must now ask of the fairies. 

“O Godmother, send me a low sweet nest, 

Wherein my breaking heart may rest.” 

She said this out loud. Thus did she make 
the one wish that would surely come true. But 
she did not know it. 

After Cynthia had given the wish to the wind, 
to be borne away on its invisible wings to her 


74 


DREAM BOATS 


godmother, she said these same words over and 
over again. But she did not know why she re¬ 
peated them so often. 

When the sun was well up in the sky, from 
afar over the blue sea there flew a great sea- 
green bird. The sunlight flashed on its spread 
wings, as it moved up and down with the toss¬ 
ing of the waves, coming nearer and nearer to 

the shore. Around and around the turrets of 

* 

the Castle of the Silver Cliffs it flew, calling to 
the wild gulls that were nesting in the crevices 
of the rocky cliffs. Around and around the 
turret that held prisoner a little princess, it 
wheeled, sending a great call echoing across 
the sea. 

Cynthia, upon hearing the bird’s strange cry 
outside the turret window, flung open the case¬ 
ment. The bird alighted on the window ledge. 
It flapped its wings with a great noise and then 
folded them. Then it preened the feathers of 
its rainbow breast. 


DREAM BOATS 


75 


Cynthia stirred like a wild flower on a gentle 
wind, and said: 

“O sea-green bird with rainbow breast, 

Sing me a song of a low sweet nest, 

Wherein my breaking heart may rest.” 

Now, if you have a fairy godmother, you, too, 
might have heard the song the sea-green bird 
with the rainbow breast and gold tail-feathers 
sang to the unhappy Princess. But if you are 
one of those who have no fairy godmother and 
have never heard such a song, I will tell you, as 
well as I am able, how the song sounded. 

“0 Speral, Se-u-re! The water in the pool in the 
King’s garden is never, never still. It is stirred inces¬ 
santly by the fountain, that rises in a slim column and 
then falls among the lilies that grow therein. By the 
rim of stones that encircle the pool in the King’s garden 
two yellow irises arise out of the damp earth and lift 
up their heads to the sun. The two irises cannot see 
one another face to face over the water. Between them 
a woodbine vine trails its leaves and tendrils in the 
small waves that lap the smooth stones below with a 
gentle sound. But they can see one another’s distorted 
image, as they sway back and forth, reflected in the 
moving water. 0 Speral , Se-u-re ! ” 

The song being sung, again the bird preened 
the feathers of its rainbow breast. A blue feather 


76 DREAM BOATS 

caught in its beak and clung there for a moment. 
Then it drifted down to the Princess’s feet. The 
bird spread its wings and took flight. 

It flew in a straight line above the sea, and 
passed over the fishing boats, as they were tossed 
up and ,down with the waves. A fisherman 
shaded his eyes with his hand to look at it, and 
called to another fisherman, in a near-by boat: 

“ I have never seen a bird like that one in these 
parts before.” 

On and on the bird flew, until from the castle 
window Cynthia could only see a small gray 
spot against the sky. Its wings dropped lower 
and lower, until at last it sank so low that the 
foam of the waves dashed against its breast. 
Suddenly it dropped down into the sea. All of 
the bird save the rainbow-coloured feathers of 
its breast and one of the gold feathers from its 
tail dissolved and became part of the great blue 
ocean. 

Those feathers of the great singing bird, that 



“THE • SEA • GREEN • BIRD • SANK • SO • LOW • THAT • THE * FOAM 
• OF • THE • WAVES DASHED • AGAINST • ITS • BREAST ’* • 

















DREAM BOATS 


77 


did not become a part of the sea, drifted to the 
north and to the south, then to the east and to 
the west, to be washed ashore later, on the beach 
at the foot of the cliffs, when thq sand was like 
silver in the moonlight. 

Meanwhile, back in her turret, Cynthia was 
pondering over the song of the bird. Surely it 
was a message from the fairies, in answer to her 
plea to her Godmother. 

“Two yellow irises, that can only see one 
another's distorted image, as they sway back and 
forth, reflected in the water of the pool in the 
King's garden," repeated the imprisoned Prin¬ 
cess to herself. 

She looked out of the window and over the 
sea, wondering what these words might mean. 

Down on the sea the fishermen were return¬ 
ing homeward. David and the other fishermen 
brought in their boats laden with fish. After 
they had landed on the beach, far below the 
window from which the Princess Cynthia looked 


78 DREAMBOATS 

down on them, David brought the finest fish to 
the kitchen door of the castle, and gave them to 
the head cook. 

As David, returning from the castle, reached 
the beach, the wind of the twilight had begun 
to blow and the moon was high over the sea, 
throwing a silver quivering reflection, like a 
path—on and on—farther out than David had 
ever been in the fishing boats. He turned from 
the temptation to follow in a quest of the moon- 
silvered path, and started toward the cottage 
where his mother was preparing the supper. 

He had only taken a few steps homeward 
when he paused, then returned and stood in the 
first steps of the shining path in the water, where 
the waves were breaking into pearls of silver 
foam. As the cool water washed against his feet, 
a cluster of brightly coloured feathers was borne 
inward by the waves, and left on the wet sand. 

All the world around him was an enchanted 
place of moonlight and silver sand. The line of 


curling foam stretched far to the north and to 
the south. 

He took up the rainbow feathers. Then he 
twined around his body a long strand of a green 
weed that had grown in the depths of the sea. 
With this he bound the feathers against his bare 
chest as they had grown on the breast of the 
bird. The one gold tail-feather that had not 
dissolved with all the rest of the bird in the 
sea, he fastened to his forehead with another 
strand of sea-weed, so that the tip of the feather 
pointed to the Star of the North, now shining 
steadily over his head. And the quill pointed 
to his own heart. 

Immediately David felt himself afire with 
wonder. And as if someone were leading him, 
he turned away from the path—homeward. 

With lips parted and eyes afire, he marched, 
as though it were to the beating of the waves of 
the sea. Retracing the footpath over which he 
had recently come from the castle, down the 


80 DREAM BOATS 

moon-silvered beach he moved as one who 
walks in his sleep. 

He came to the foot of the steep rocks, which 
rose abruptly from the sea and were crowned by 
the castle of the King. Two of the castle walls 
rose up here, as if they were a part of the cliff. 
A wistaria vine with a twisted trunk hung in a 
heavy mass from the castle walls as far up as 
the turret. Without knowing why, he made his 
way through the thick mass of leaves. 

As he climbed higher and higher through the 
trembling vines, a shower of blooms fell to the 
ground below. The vines led him on and on 
until he came to the round window in the tur¬ 
ret that looked out over the sea. He stepped 
onto the window-ledge, where he stood for a 
moment and looked past the great circle of 
moonlight that spread on the floor to the little 
Princess. She lay sleeping amongst her many 
coloured cushions. He looked on Cynthia with 
great tenderness and admiration. 


8i 


DREAM BOATS 
An unknown magical power had brought him 

i 

here. It was holding him immovable, spell¬ 
bound, in the circle of moonlight. He did not 
know whether he ought to awaken her or leave 
her sleeping. Therefore, he stood pondering, 
filled with amazement at her great beauty. He 
saw tears falling from under her closed eyelids, 
and dropping from her cheek. 

While David was thus engaged in thinking 
over what he should do, she awoke, and sat 
gazing at him with the lovely wondering eyes of 
a little child. He stood, tall and handsome, 
before her. His black hair was clinging in 
close curls to his sun-burned brow, and his eyes 
of blue were filled with the deepest tenderness. 

As she looked at him, he kneeled in the moon¬ 
light beside her, and bowed his head almost to 
the floor. Cynthia was surprised, and a little 
frightened, at the appearance of this strange 
youth. She thought that he might be the 
Prince to whom she was expected to give her 


82 DREAM BOATS 

heart and her hand; and yet the little maid had 

said that he had a red beard. 

“Stand up and turn all the way around,” she 
commanded almost severely. 

He stood for a moment looking at her and 
then turned slowly around. There was no sign 
of a red beard, or of any coloured beard. And 
there was not one wrinkle across the back of 
his neck. 

“Did my father send you here to take my 
heart and hand?” Cynthia asked, greatly per¬ 
plexed. 

He shook his head slowly, as he said, “No.” 
She could scarcely hear him. 

“Are you one of the King’s servants?” in¬ 
quired the puzzled Princess. 

“No,” he answered fervently; “but since I 
came into this room, I am a servant in the court 
where you are the queen.” 

“I am not a queen yet,” said the Princess in 


great surprise. 


DREAM BOATS 83 

“You are the queen that has ruled over all my 
dreams,” he said convincingly. 

“What is your name?” 

“David.” 

“How did you come here?” 

“I have a Godmother, by whose magic, I am 
sure, I have been led here to lay my heart at 
your feet.” 

Although the Princess had been frightened, 
she noticed the softness of his voice and did 
not hesitate to look into his eyes. And then 
she saw the feathers like unto the bird that had 
sung of the two yellow irises. 

“I do not see what it means,” she said. And 
a silence fell between them. 

“What is your name?” he asked at length. 

“Clio Clementine Caroline Cyclamen Candace 
Columbine.” She told him her name in a sing¬ 
song fashion. She could not say it otherwise. 

“In the kingdom of my dreams, I have called 
you Cynthia.” 


8 4 


DREAM BOATS 


“Cynthia!” The Princess looked startled. 
She had heard that name but once before. 

“David, my friend,” she said sweetly—“for a 
friend of mine I think you must be—I am 
very unhappy. And this is all so strange to me. 
I cannot tell whether I am awake or in a 
dream.” 

“Indeed, your friend I am,” he answered 
eagerly. “You are not sleeping. But you are 
dreaming, and in this dream you shall have 
whatever you wish as soon as you tell me what 
it is.” For David, too, had been given a wish 
by his godmother. And what more could he 
wish than that which she wished? 

“My father is trying to make me marry a 
prince who has a red beard, but who has no 
mother.” 

He hesitated and then smiled with joy as he 
said: “If that is all that troubles you, I can 
easily put an end to your sorrow.” 

“How, pray tell me, would you do it?” 



DREAM BOATS 85 

“Lay your head on my shoulder and believe 
all that it will say to you.” 

She pressed her cheek against the rainbow- 
coloured feathers of the singing bird on his 
breast. He kissed her hair. 

“With your head resting there, can you doubt 
that I love you with all my heart?” he entreated. 

“Only wait a little while and I believe I, too, 
will love you dearly.” 

Then Cynthia suddenly recollected the test 
which she had told her father must be passed by 
the man who was to win her hand and her 
heart. She reached over to the jar wherein the 
flowers that her mother had brought her were 
still fresh. Taking a buttercup from among 
the blooms, she held it under his chin. When 
she saw a pale yellow light reflected on his skin 
from the flower, she looked into his eyes and 
asked earnestly: 

“Have you a mother?” 

“Yes.” 


86 DREAM BOATS 

After a moment, wherein a thousand stars 
began to shine in dark places in the sky, she 
laid her cheek against the feathers on his breast. 
She murmured: 

“My heart has found its low sweet nest, 
wherein it may have rest. O my dear, my dear; 
will it rest here always?” 

And then she drew her head up, as a bird 
does when drinking. She looked into his 
eyes. 

“For ever and ever and ever,” he replied; 
“through the long nights and pale noons, and 
past the countless stars; when the city is whis¬ 
pering below us, or the water of the sea is lap¬ 
ping against the side of a boat; when we are in 
the light of the late coming moon of the South, 
or listening to the rustle of the understand¬ 
ing leaves. Always, within my heart will you 
rest.” 

There was no other sound save the waves 
washing up on the smooth sands of the beach 


DREAM BOATS 87 

far below them; for the fountain in the King’s 
garden had ceased to leap into the air, and the 
water in the pool thereof was still. 

David tenderly carried the Princess Cynthia 
down the steep descent, through the branches 
of the wistaria vine, as though she were a little 
child; he was taking her away from a prison to 
a place amongst kind-hearted people, where she 
would find rest for her heart and ease for the 
sorrow of which her father had been the cause. 
Their journey was as wonderful to them as 
passing through the low clouds and showers of 
spring, as sailing into the yellow sunset, as meet¬ 
ing the stars, and as roaming through a rainbow 
in their happiness. They reached the beach at 
the foot of the cliff. Hand in hand together 
they went, in the moonlight, over the sand. 

David, the fisherman’s son, led the Princess 
Cynthia to his mother, in her cottage by the sea. 
She was a very wise woman, as mothers usually 


88 


DREAM BOATS 


are- At once she took Cynthia into her arms as 
though she were her own little child who had 
been lost but was found and returned to her 
after long, long waiting. 

In the morning of the next day the marriage 
was celebrated. And the Princess Cynthia be¬ 
came a fisherman’s wife. She was as happy as 
a princess or a fisherman’s wife could be. 

When the room in the castle turret was dis¬ 
covered empty, and the King’s daughter was 
nowhere to be found, great were the regrets and 
the sorrow, loud the crying in the court. What 
could the King think, save that his harshness had 
forced the little Princess to throw herself from 
the turret window down into the sea? She had 
gone out of the hearts of those who should have 
cherished her for youth’s sake, if for no other 
reason. 

For Cynthia and David six years passed 
quickly by, as they always do when people are 
happy, and they are always happy when they 


DREAM BOATS 89 

stay near at home and do not quarrel. Long 
days of regret had softened the heart of the 
King, and the Queen grew more sorrowful as 
the years passed. 

One day, when the sunshine was flooding the 
garden of the Castle on the Silver Cliffs, where 
the King and Queen were sitting under the 
spreading branches of the horse-chestnut trees, 
David and Cynthia brought a little boy to the 
castle. The King and Queen received them 
with forgiveness and great rejoicing. And it 
all ended just as it should end, when the King 
realized that, being a father, he could become a 
grandfather. And now he was invited to be a 
godfather. 

What man—be he a king who rules over a 
kingdom, or fisherman who sails on the sea in 
his boat—could continue to be cruel-hearted 
when he is the father of a lost child who has 
returned, and the grandfather and the godfather 
of a little boy, at one and the same time? 


While the Queen wept tears of thankfulness, 
the King had to take off his crown and smooth 
the dent it had made in his forehead. Replac- 

i 

ing the crown on his own head, the King 
carried Cynthia’s child into the chapel for the 
christening. Aiter that, they went into the 
castle and the feast lasted into the night. 

And the little boy became the ruler over the 
hearts of all those who sojourned within the 
Kingdom on the Silver Cliffs. 


PORTRAITS 






























THE COMET’S TAIL 


T HEY called it a tail! They called it a 
tail!” 

The Comet King dashed across the sky faster 
than the fastest rocket. 

“They called it a tail!” he screamed. He 
plunged into the cosmic seas where he butted 
into a star, breaking it into a million meteorites. 
These scattered out of his path, and, whirling 
themselves away, made courses in a strange orbit. 

Now! For fourteen thousand years the Comet 
King had sat upon a cloud, combing his beard 
with a fine-tooth comb that was made of the rays 
of the setting sun and the light of the rising moon. 

Seven times a day he anointed his beard with 
sunbeams and the dust of space. At night he 
burnished it with ashes of the bronze circle that 

oftentimes glows around the moon. In the 

93 


94 


DREAM BOATS 


spring the trailing flame-like beard that grew 
around his mouth was polished with star-beams. 
In the autumn it was sprinkled with the dust 
of drifting dreams. 

At last, after years of solicitude, it was finer 
than the down on the breast of young birds. 

On the day that followed after the anniversary 
of the fourteen thousandth year that this mon¬ 
arch had sat cross-legged upon a cloud, the fourth 
toe on the left foot went to sleep. Toes are 
wont to do so when they are not exercised. He 
remembered, as he stretched himself, once 
having heard that “ sleeping toes can be awaken¬ 
ed if one walks up and down.” Indeed it would 
be pleasant to stroll amongst the constellations, 
and a pleasure to exchange a “ How-do-you-do?” 
with his cosmic cousins, the orbed spheres. 
Therefore, he roamed down an alley of space. 
Not once did this royal wanderer trip over his 
beard as it flowed behind his heels in league 
upon league of curling spray. 


DREAM BOATS 


95 


Behold! Certain planet ladies giggled. Tilt¬ 
ing their noses coquettishly, they endeavoured 
to attract the attention of his haughty majesty 
by a subterfuge. 

“What a beautiful tail!” 

A tail indeed! As he heard this the hair on 
his head stood on end in a stormy hurricane. 
He did not stop to think; comets never do. 

• Gnashing his teeth and clenching his fist he 
folded his feet for a flight. Sparks flew from 
him and fluttered down the dark where they 
were quenched in the light of an oncoming 
dawn. Insulted to the innermost depths of his 
blazing being, he screamed forth a scroll of 
sparkling sound. 

“They called it a tail! They called it a tail!” 

He swept across the sky faster than the swift¬ 
est swallow. The hair on his head impaled stars, 
carrying them to places wherein they were over¬ 
shadowed by greater stars and lost the song of 
their twinkling in a shining light. 



96 


DREAM BOATS 


He smashed others to pieces. The broken 
bits roamed blindly around and around until 
they found a course whereon they could swing 
and renew their silent singing. And still other 
stars were entangled in his beard and carried to 
remote places. 

He plunged through clouds, tearing them 
into shreds. Hazy fragments clung to his 
breast and dimmed its shining. The silver 
linings of the clouds wound around his body 
and flashed as he rushed past the orb of the 
day. 

His flight rent the rainbow into rags. A 
tangled streamer of indigo and orange fluttered 
behind him into unknown star-depths. 

While passing the Pleiades there was no time 
for him to enquire whether or not they had found 
the little sister, lost to them ages and ages ago. 
So terrific was his speed, so violent was his exer¬ 
tion, that boiling sweat spangled the stars and 
planets about him. He passed through the 


DREAM BOATS 97 

bowl of the Great Dipper so quickly that not a 
drop of its luminary contents was spilled. 

With dazzling explosions the Comet King left 
a blazing wake through the Milky Way, tearing 
a large enough rent in its closely studded bridge 
to attract the attention of the astronomers who 
dwell on Mercury, Mars, and Venus: That is, 
of such astronomers as do dwell thereon. 

In utter rage the flying monarch bit a chip 
from the outer band of Saturn. But that did not 
make any difference to this planetary dealer in 
rings. Before one could say “ Jupiter Robinson ” 
Saturn had set the empty space with new moons. 

The monarch absent-mindedly swallowed what 
was nothing less than a mouthful of moons— 
moons that wax and wane as moons are wont to 
do, and could not cease that regular performance 
even though they were swallowed by a Comet 
King. 

He paused in his wild flight. 

What other creature—be he comet, bird, or 



98 DREAM BOATS 

machine—ever had to keep his mind on flying 
while moons waned within himself? It could 
not be done. 

And so, the unreasonable king sipped a cool 
shower that was falling from some near-by 
clouds. The drops of the April rain were warm 
and dissolved the mass of moons from Saturn’s 
bands within him. 

This was the end of the comet’s flight. 

Swinging in remote space he remembered 
what had brought him here. 

After all, he reflected, the planet ladies had 
merely called it a tail. Surely that did not make it 
one. However, for reassurance, he looked to see. 

It was not a tail! 

I-n-d-e-e-d! It—was—not—a—tail! 

It was a shining beard that floated behind him 
for a million miles. It was only his own im¬ 
patience of criticism that had made him a victim 
of their silly gossip and caused such needless 
destruction in the starry environs. 




BP 


M 

km 

■ 1 fc^> : 

m 

wm 

ZmW/s/mm 


XvvrM iky m 


\fBk a 


Pp^g| 


mMr- . 

al—i 


• “CALLING • IT • A • TAIL • DID • NOT * MAKE * IT • ONE" • 













DREAM BOATS 99 

He walked calmly back to the meadow of the 
meteors. Forgiving the planet ladies, he kissed 
them on the top of their heads where the rays 
start. 

Finding a cloud whereon he could rest, he 
crossed his legs with dignity and sat himself 
down in the same position that had made his toe 
go to sleep and so created the turmoil. 

He was fourteen thousand years untangling 
his beard and as he untangled, he pondered over 
his toes, speeding the ages away with a delight¬ 
ful riddle. 

“ Eni-Meni-Mini-Mo. Which one of my ten 
toes on which one of my two feet will be the 
next toe to take a nap ? ” 


THE DAUGHTER OF A 
COMET KING 


E VERYBODY and everything has a child of 
some sort of its own. Sometimes it is a 
baby, sometimes an acorn, and sometimes a little 
twinkling star. 

Yes, stars have children and comets have 
children. Here is the picture of the Daughter 
of a Comet King. 

The daughters of comets are not like their 
fathers, who dash across the sky faster than the 
fastest swallow and don’t care a whit into what 
they butt, or into what small pieces they break 
it. They only stop long enough to laugh at the 
broken pieces and never say, “Excuse me!” as 
everyone really should. 

Comet ladies just drift dreamingly about the 
sky, sweetly shunning every star and cloud, 


IOO 



“ COMET • LADIES • DRIFT • DREAMINGLT ■ ABOUT • THE • SKY ** • 










DREAM BOATS ioi 

waving their arms this way and that way, sending 
soft flower-scented winds into our windows, and 
making the leaf-laden trees whisper: “Ah me, 
ah me! how sweet, how sweet, how sweet is the 
cool of the evening!” 


THE GODMOTHER 


O-DAY all the world is to me as though it 



A were a vast gray sea, and all the people on 
the world like ships. 

Vessels—brigs and schooners, sloops and 
lighters—are passing back and forth through 
the sun-capped waves of days, and the nights 
that are the shadows of these endless billows. 

There is a galley with a high prow putting 
into a port, and a noble three-decker with seventy 
guns proudly sets sail from her harbour. A 
frigate runs through a tempest and an ancient 
open barge with blue sails is drifting through 
sunlit waters. There are pirate ships plunging 
through the choppy seas of a gale after treasure. 
A fine bark is adrift in a field of icebergs, while 
a transport is lost in the fog. A merchantman is 
becalmed in a quiet sea and there are boats with 


102 


DREAM BOATS 103 

sails set, but alas! they cannot sail, because there 
is no wind. Some of the vessels are bedecked 
with flags and pennons, while others follow 
great carved figureheads. Countless as the sands 
on the edge of the ocean are the crafts where 
their propellers mark their heart throbs. 

Journeying through the seas of this life, every 
vessel needs must leave a wake of some sort 
behind it, as it moves through calm or troubled 
water. There are ships that leave trails of 
bubbles as clear as the dewdrops of spring. 
And there are others whose wakes are cloudy 
bubbles. Alas, Alas! Some boats are tracing 
their courses with paths of slime and dirt and 
destruction. 

I am a craft, sea-worn and lonely. It is need¬ 
ful that I tow an excursion through the waves 
for the pleasure of my shipwright. 

To-day as I sailed across a bay for a harbour 
wherein they tell me I may dream my dreams, 
I sighted a noble white vessel with silver sails 


104 


DREAM BOATS 


that curled in the wind like flower petals. I 
gave her the right of way. The mighty argosy 
passed before me. but I could not see the name 
traced on the prow. I knew from the nobility 
of the figurehead, whose eyes looked unflinch¬ 
ingly into the face of the sun, that it was a 
wondrous boat indeed. 

O great white ship, with your silver sails, did 
you dream of a little gray craft whose path you 
crossed? 

I sailed through your shining trail in the waves 
of days and nights. Against my side I felt a 
gentle clinking; leaning over my helm I looked 
down into the water. 

Behold! In the wake you are leaving behind 
you, O shining white ship with your curling 
sails, the bubbles have changed into pearls! 



• “ ONE • OF * THE • COMMON • DECENCIES • OF • ORDINARY * 

• SOCIAL • INTERCOURSE M • 































“ONE OF THE COMMON 
DECENCIES OF ORDINARY 
SOCIAL INTERCOURSE 99 


O N A day once upon a time when love 
should have been in every heart in the 
whole wide world, a man and a boy had a quarrel. 
What it was all about I am sure I do not know, 
and I do not think that they themselves know. 
Quarrels sometimes are that way. 

However, I do know (and I will tell you) how 
it ended. The man made a face at the boy. 
His nose quivered three times (not being the 
quarreling man, or a rabbit, I cannot show you 
how) as he said: 

“ I shall no longer expect of you the common 
decencies of ordinary social intercourse.” 

The boy laughed and the quarrel was over. 
Here you see a portrait of one of the common 

105 


106 DREAM BOATS 

decencies, those delightful etiquette creatures 
such as: “ Keep -your -elbows -off -the -table ”; 
“ Speak-only-when-your-mouth-is-empty ”; “Al- 
ways-chew-with-closed-lips,” and all that one 
should do. But how one ever does them all 
without going through life with a book of 
etiquette in his hip pocket, no one (except the 
person who does them all as they should be done) 
will ever know. The young gentleman who 
posed for this portrait is called: “ Mr. Children- 

should-be-seldom-seen-and-never-heard. ’ ’ 


THE MAGIC DEWDROP 










THE MAGIC DEWDROP 
OULHASSUM, Caliph of Iblis, possessed 



L jL the most beautiful wife in all the lands of 
Saum, Mosul, and Ind, but had no children. This 
was a great grief to the Caliph and his subjects, 
especially when they remembered that, at his 
death, there would be no son to bear his name, 
and no heir to inherit his goods and lands. 

At length, after years of unhappiness, he could 
bear it no longer and sent his faithful Vizier to a 
mighty magician to beg him to cast some spell 
by which the great calamity which was falling on 
his house might be averted. 

Mirtas of the silver hair, mightiest magician in 
all the land, came into the presence of the Queen 
and said: “O great and beautiful Queen, your 
wish is about to be fulfilled. I pray you, go into 

the garden of the lilies, when the flowers are 

109 


no DREAM BOATS 

silvered by the moon and are lulled to dreams 
by the doves cooing their melancholy tale of 
love. There you will find a lily whose face 
looks up to the heavens. Therein will be a dew- 
drop that holds in its surface the image of a re¬ 
flected star. When the throats of the singing 
sunbirds that nest among the lilies, are fresh 
with the cool of dawn, drink this dewdrop, and 
think of the stars.” 

The beautiful Queen did all that Mirtas of the 
silver hair told her to do. 

- On a night when the doves cooed as though 
their hearts would break and the moon was on 
the wane, a child was born to the wife of Aboul- 
hassum, Caliph of Iblis. It was a boy and there 
was a hump on his back. His mother called 
him Selim (a Guiding Star); and for one short 
hour she loved him beyond everything in the 
world, and died. 

There was a hump on little Selim's back and 
as he grew older, it bowed his head to the earth, 


so that when he sat and dreamed of what his life 
might have been, his chin rested on his knee. 
But in his eyes was the beauty of the image of a 
setting star reflected in the pale cool water at 
dawn. 

There are many among us who see the reflec¬ 
tion of a star, and yet whose eyes pass over its 
beauty to seek what is held in the deep water 
beyond the reflection, and few among us who 
see its beauty and let their eyes linger on its 
quivering image until the star has set. So there 
were few, in the days of Aboulhassum, who saw 
the beauty of Selim's eyes, and many who did 
not, for their eyes ever passed beyond his face 
and rested upon the hump on his back. His 
body grew so ugly and illshaped that not one of 
the attendants would speak to him, and he never 
failed to excite laughter and ridicule among those 
who should have cherished him, if for no other 
reason than for the sake of his beautiful mother, 
who had loved him so dearly for one brief hour. 


112 


DREAM BOATS 


Time passed, and when he was grown, his 
father had let his heart grow bitter and cruel 
in useless grief and rebellion over the loss of his 
beautiful wife as well as through the disappoint¬ 
ment in the heir to all his goods and lands. 

One day, in an outburst of grief and rage, he 
said to his son: “You monster! You idiot! 
You shall pay dearly for making me ridiculous 
in the eyes of my attendants. You hunchback! 
If you knew how much your weakness and this 
eternal staring at the stars annoy me, you would 
find some other place in which to live!” 

With these words burning in his heart, Selim 
went away trembling with fright and dismay. 
As he passed through his father’s lands, even 
the peacocks of emerald and blue and bronze, 
on the wall of the garden of lilies, mocked at 
him with their ugly calls. He could still hear 
them when he was a long way off. As he came 
to a great forest, he suffered loneliness and de¬ 
spair because he, Selim, a Guiding Star, had 


DREAM BOATS 


113 

made his father, the Caliph, a laughing stock to 
his attendants, and a shame to the house of Iblis. 

He went into the depths of the forest of ban- 
yan trees and of trees of the waving palm, where 
the flamingo spreads its crimson wings, and 
parrots talk incessantly. Toward evening under 
a lofty tree, whereon a jasmine vine trailed in 
tangled masses—a shower of dim and falling 
stars—he lay as still as a sacred lotus blossom 
on a sacred still pool, very sad and lonely, think¬ 
ing over his misfortune. He had never as yet 
seen himself, but always he had been told how 
ugly he was, and how deformed. 

While he was thus thinking, he heard the 
sweetest music that ever an unfortunate youth 
had heard. It was like a cluster of ring doves 
and innumerable waterfalls, all in a perfect har¬ 
mony, singing in a low murmuring sound, al¬ 
most below their breath, a melody in words 
that have lost their shadows and in words that 
have lost their echoes. 


He arose and followed the music until he 
came to a myrtle grove intermingled with trees 
hung with yellow fruit and bell-shaped flowers. 
Over the ground, and hanging from the trees in 
garlands, were vines of moon flowers. Like 
a slim column of mist a fountain arose in the 
midst, as though its water were seeking to lose 
itself in the odour of the moon flowers. 

i 

The water looked so cool as it fell into the 
pool, starred with firm round water lilies, that 
he stooped down and drank, using his hands as 

i 

a cup. But even in this enchanted place, he 
could not escape from his humiliation. Among 
the flowers, pictured all quiveringly, he beheld 
his likeness. He had, as yet, never seen his 
ugly and deformed self, and he looked now for 
the first time at his hunched back. He turned 
away in despair. 

i 

As he turned he looked up at the clear, rising 
stream of water. What was his amazement to 
find that the fountain was flowing over a maiden, 



• “WHAT • WAS • HIS • AMAZEMENT • TO • FIND • THAT • THE * FOUNTAIN 
• WAS • FLOWING • OVER * A * MAIDEN" • 






































































DREAM BOATS 


US 

whiter than the moon herself. Yellow water 
lilies were in her black hair, falling with the 
water of the fountain, and her flesh took on 
opalescent gleams through the scarce-concealing 
silky webs and veils of gossamer, the colour of 
running water, now opaque, now transparent. 

Never before had any one looked into his 
eyes as she did. Others had always looked be¬ 
yond, over his shoulder, at the hump on his 
back. 

When he had looked into the maiden's eyes 
as though it was forever, and yet as though it 
were but for a moment, she came from the water, 
holding out her hands. At her coming all the 
air was perfumed with the delicate fragrance of a 
shower of Spring falling upon jasmine blossoms. 
In each hand she held a drop of water from the 
fountain, which she placed upon the hump on 
his back, and from out of it drew a casket of 
ivory and coral, whereon were carved, in an intri¬ 
cate design, stars and strange birds. It was 


n6 DREAM BOATS 

garlanded with waning moons and coral drops, 
falling like bubbles, and over all, set deep in the 
ivory, was a moonstone. 

Holding it to her heart, she approached the 
fountain, lingering over the water for a moment. 
Then, advancing very gently toward him, she 
looked searchingly into his eyes. 

Next, she took a crystal globe from out the 
casket, which, at a sign from her, they held be¬ 
tween them. As they did so, their reflection 
in the magic dewdrop became intermingled. 
Selim, searching for the beauty of her face, saw, 
but did not know it, the light of his own eyes. 
She saw, reflected therein, the light of his pure 
soul shining in his eyes, while, through the 
potency of the magic sphere, he felt her love 
and kindness beam upon him. 

As they were thus looking at one another, 
through their reflections, seeing what neither 
had ever seen before, a solitary star cast its 
poised and quivering light upon the crystal, like 


DREAM BOATS 


u 7 

an echo of the light of the love which had glowed 
upon him from his mother’s eyes, when she held 
him to her heart for that one sweet hour. 

A tear of joy fell on the Magic Dewdrop 
which broke as lightly as a bubble on the 
gentlest wind of June. And left them looking 
into one another’s eyes. Then Selim the Hunch¬ 
back straightway felt his crooked back change 
its shape, expand and become flexible; felt his 
legs grow straight. Behold! He was trans¬ 
formed into a beautiful youth. 

Joy laughed in his eyes, deep happiness 
surged and flooded his heart, even as the tides 
of the full moon flood the shores of the sea. He 
ran to the trees and gathered apricots, cherries, 
and golden fruits, with the loveliest of the flow¬ 
ers, to give to the maiden of the fountain. She 
entwined a wreath of the yellow lilies about his 
hair. Taking his hand in hers, she led him to 
the fountain and showed him his reflection in 
the water, which was beautifully clear and still 


1 n8 DREAM BOATS 

now. It was with wonder that he saw the mar¬ 
velous change that had been wrought. 

In his great joy, he cried to her: “O Star of 
my heart! O Star of my life! Since I have once 
seen you, I shall be able to think of nothing 
else; therefore, all the days of my life I will 
serve you. The magic of your loveliness has 
made me whole. Peace and happiness you 
have brought to my lonely heart and rejoicing to 
the house of Iblis. I shall bring you the rich¬ 
est fruits, and find you the fairest flowers. It is 
so sweet to be loved, so sweet—so sweet! O Star 
of the world! If I can only make you happy!” 

Selim led the maiden to his father's gardens, 
whence he had fled in sorrow and dismay. 
At the sight of his erect and youthful beauty, 
and the soft radiance of the fair maiden at his 
side, all who had once mocked him, now ran to 
do him honour. A troop of black slaves re¬ 
ceived them, throwing themselves on the ground 
at their feet. An especially arrayed slave, with 


DREAM BOATS 


119 

bands of orange and crimson silk about his 
waist, and great copper rings swinging from his 
ears, ran before them to tell the Caliph. Filled 
with gratitude, the father raised his hahds to 
Ormuzd the Blessed, to give thanks. 

Then on every side were heard strains of 
music as Selim and the maiden, more lovely and 
more radiant than all the stars, appeared before 
the Caliph. The brilliancy of the lilies in their 
hair was such that they outshone the sun itself. 
The Caliph bowed his head and wept for 
happiness. 

Amid great rejoicing over all the land of Iblis, 
on that very day was the wedding celebrated. 
After there had been a great feast, the Caliph led 
the youthful lovers to the most beautiful rooms 
in the palace, which had been set apart for them. 
There at the foot of the maiden’s couch, per¬ 
fumed with musk and the dry petals of roses, 
Selim lay on a carpet of cloth of gold embroi¬ 
dered with innumerable stars and birds. 


He told her stories about her eyes. He said 
they were like deep, dark pools that mirrored 
the reflection of the sky on a Summer night, 
sparkling with a million lights. He told her 
about her forehead which was like a shell-tinted 
ivory, bathed in the moonlight of May. When 
he had finished the story of her great beauty, he 
again started with her eyes, and told it all over 
and over again. Indeed, he was never tired of 
telling, nor she of listening to, the story of his 
great love. 

On a night when the flower-petals fell, heavy 
with dripping dew, when the night birds had 
sung their last song and the dove’s cooing was 
hushed in the sweetest sleep, Selim and the 
maiden walked together in the moon-silvered 
garden of the lilies, and talked of their love. 
Selim said: 

“O pure and beautiful one!—mounting in 
splendour over the horizon of my youth, like a 
radiant star, to cast the sweetness of your love 


DREAM BOATS 


121 


over all the days of my life!—tell me, I pray you, 
whence did you come?” 

She answered: “ My mother bore me under a 
blooming tree when the moon was on the wane, 
and died with the fading of the stars. There, too, 
would I have perished of cold and hunger, had 
not Mirtas of the silver hair found me. I lived 
always in his little house in a forest of singing 
birds and sweet-scented flowers. At evening I 
spent the happiest hours, listening to the tales of 
magic that Mirtas told me. 

“ He told me of the Dewdrop which the great 
and beautiful Queen had found, and of the 
CaliplTs son, who had a hump on his back, but 
eyes in which ever shone the light of a star. When 
Mirtas had grown old, and death was near, he 
confined me in the fountain by spells of magic. 

“Then said Mirtas: ‘Here must you stay, a 
child of running water, until a youth comes. 
When you have seen the image of a star shining 
in his eyes, he will claim you for his bride.’ 


122 


DREAM BOATS 


“In your eyes, O Selim, my heart, my lover, 
my Guiding Star, I saw a gleam like that re¬ 
flected in the Dewdrop that your dear mother 
found in the heart of the lily whose face looked 
up to the Heaven,—the Magic Dewdrop, for 
which Ormuzd’s name be praised.” 


COLD 


PORRIDGE 



COLD PORRIDGE 


“The Man in the Moon 
Came tumbling down, 
And asked the way 
to Norwich; - a 
He went by the south 
And burned his mouth 
With eating cold 
pease porridge.” 


I N THE red-roofed and white-gabled houses 
that were crowded together in the streets of 
So-and-So Town there was not a window that 
did not have at least one head leaning from the 
casement as far as it was safe to lean. There 
was not a mouth of one of the faces looking 
into the narrow streets of So-and-So Town 
whose lips were not moving as fast as lips can 
move, and some faster than lips should. Every 
person who lived within the narrow houses was 
quarreling with his next-door neighbour,, or his 

neighbour two doors removed, and some were 

125 


126 


DREAM BOATS 


calling in loud, angry voices to those who dwelt 
across the street. 

Window after window had opened in the 
square and in the narrow streets that radiated 
from the market place as a centre and led far 
away to the hills and valleys with their corn¬ 
fields, farms, and vineyards. 

“ Shut up that noise,” angrily shouted Horner, 
the tanner, as his white-capped head emerged 
from a window. 

“My good friend, you shut up, yourself,” said 
Solomon Shaftoe, severely. 

“ I must have my sleep,” cried old Jenny Linnet, 
as she tipped her candle. The grease dropped 
on Thomas Stroat’s shining red nose, which had 
appeared from a window two stories below. 

“Give us our rest,” shouted the crowd. 

“ Fiddle-come-fie, what is all the chatter 
about?” inquired old Rook, the tinker. 

“Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!” yelled everybody 
excitedly. 


DREAM BOATS 


127 


“Who is moaning that way this time of 
night?” inquired the thick-headed Clint, and 
when no answer came he swore at nobody at all. 

“Can’t you show a little straight common 
sense?” yelled Muffet, as he spat out of his 
window. 

“You filthy swinel” shouted a hoarse voice, 
wagging his head. 

“You lazy loon,” came from a garret window. 
The owner of this voice did not know to whom 
he was addressing this remark, but that did not 
make any difference. 

Someone intended making an end of the noise 
but a fit of coughing choked him before he 
could speak. He cursed shrilly between coughs. 

“ Shut up that noise! ” 

“ Shut up, yourself, you disturber of the peace.” 

“La, how the world wags!” said old Grundy, 
wrapping a shawl around his throat. The 
children cried, and one dog, and then another, 
barked. 


128 DREAM BOATS 

In the back yard of Weevil, the pieman, a 
yellow hound sat on his haunches and joined in 
the din. He was indifferent to the sounds about 
him; he was baying at the moon, two nights 
from the full, as it peeped over his masters wall, 
sending a stream of light into the kitchen and 
lighting the shelves whereon were innumerable 
tarts and a bowl of curd and whey. 

There was no one to blame. No townsman 
had said a word or done a deed to cause a quar¬ 
rel with his neighbour. Indeed, it was not a 
man that walks on this earth who had awakened 
all the -sleeping people of So-and-So Town and 
started the chattering, grumbling, and scolding. 
It was the Man in the Moon who had recently 
paid a visit to Norwich and continued his jour¬ 
ney southward, the smiling silver gentleman of 
the Moon who often paid visits to his friends in 
Norwich town. He was the unconscious dis¬ 
turber of the peaceful folk who lived in the little 
group of houses huddled together in a valley. 


DREAM BOATS 129 

Now before the village was annoyed, in those 
days when the moon had been a new moon, the 
seeds of the trouble had been sown. 

Timothy, the chandler, looked up from the 
tallow and over his left shoulder at the crescent. 
He wished he would be spared chilblains when 
the nights turned cold. Across the road, Mar¬ 
tin, the son of the tinsmith, asked his sister for 
one more rhyme. Joan told him about 

“The Man in the Moon 
Came tumbling down. 

And asked the way 
to Norwich. 

He went by the south 
And burned his mouth, 

With eating cold 
pease porridge.” 

Little Martin liked this rhyme more than any 
one his sister had said for him. He asked her 
to say it again and again until he could repeat 
it without a mistake. He said it for Jill, the 
tanner’s wife, and for Giles, the landlord of the 
inn. Jill told it to Jenny, the weaver’s daugh¬ 
ter; she in return repeated it to Clint, the cob- 


130 DREAM BOATS 

bier, who told it to all the people who had 
their shoes and boots repaired, and as fast as 
they could discard the old boots and put on 
the mended ones, they went on their way tell¬ 
ing the rhyme to everyone they met. 

By the time the moon was at the first quarter, 
all who dwelt in So-and-So Town had said the 
rhyme once, and many of them said it over and 
over again for no reason at all. 

Each felt it his duty to repeat it to his neigh¬ 
bours save Thrush, the lame boy, who lived in 
a house by the side of a stream, lonely in situa¬ 
tion; in fact, it was a quarter of the way between 
the village and the woods. 

By the house was the highroad gate. Thrush’s 
father opened and shut the gate for all who 
passed through and they gave him a coin. 

The lame boy had not heard the rhyme about 
the Man in the Moon’s visit to Norwich and so 
he could not repeat it to any one. Therefore, 
he sailed his little boat in the stream, that 


DREAM BOATS 131 

widened here into a pond, as it ran past his 
father's cottage. Back and forth from the port 
of a large boulder on the edge of the water to 
the harbour, which was safe within the shadow 
of a bunch of Michaelmas daisies, the craft 
Arrow made its perilous voyages just as though 
the whole town were not talking about the Man 
in the Moon’s mouth. 

The sleeplessness that had prevailed through¬ 
out So-and-So Town had been started by the 
rhyme. The Man in the Moon peeped into the 
lighted windows of the houses as he journeyed 
from the east to the west. He heard everyone 
repeating the verse of a feast of porridge of 
which he had partaken in Norwich. He had 
visited Norwich, that was true, but he could not 
remember if the porridge had been hot or cold. 
Indeed he could not recall the porridge at all. 

What man, whether he be on the earth or in 
the moon, could resist the temptation of being 
the hero of a rhyme? And so he waxed large 


132 


DREAM BOATS 


as fast as he was capable of waxing, and listened 
with a pleased smile to his heart's content. The 
rhyme that everyone was saying was not true. 
That fact did not affect any one but himself. 
He had not eaten the pease in Norwich. In¬ 
deed, he had never tasted porridge in his whole 
life. It is never found on the tables of the best 
moon families. 

Long ago his mother had forbidden him to 
open his mouth. She told him if he parted his 
lips his teeth of ice would drop out and de¬ 
stroy the world and the stars. He liked to look 
into all the bright windows in the houses on 
earth, and he was very fond of watching the 
twinkling stars. Nothing would induce him to 
dim their lights. Therefore, even if the rhyme 
of which he was the hero were true, he was 
helpless to deny it. A good son he was and 
would not disobey his mother. Listening at 
every window-ledge for the rhyme, he followed 
the villagers straggling homeward through the 


DREAM BOATS 


i33 


streets, as they gleefully sang of his cold por¬ 
ridge. He listened to them until they shut their 
doors in his face. 

He made the nights short on the other side of 
the world in order that he might again and 
again hear the rhyme in which he was the 
hero. 

One night the moon stood halfway up the 
eastern sky shining very soft and yellow. The 
Moon pays all his visits to the earth in reflec¬ 
tions although they can only be seen by others 
when there is still water or a window or a tear, 
but he is still present even if we cannot see 
him. 

On this night the unseen reflection crept 
through the ordered rows of cabbages and tur¬ 
nips to a window where a dim light burned. 
Within, Joe Pye, the butcher, and his family 
were sitting around the supper table. The por¬ 
ridge pot was empty. The knives and forks lay 
crossed on the plates. Posey, the daughter of 


i 3 4 DREAM BOATS 

Pye, was repeating the rhyme for a wandering 

clockmaker, who had stopped there for the night. 

“ He went by the south, 

And burned his mouth ” 

she sang gaily as though it were amusing to 
burn the mouth on cold porridge. 

When the Moon heard this the right corner 
of his mouth began to throb with a dull pain 
that hurt like toothache. As he crossed the 
sky the pain increased. Before midnight he 
thought he could not endure the suffering. He 
began to groan, a little noise he could make 
without parting his lips and disobeying his 
mother. Moaning seemed to help his suffering, 
and so, at regular intervals, he made a noise like 
humming, with grunts mixed in. It seemed a 
little noise to him, but the people on the worlds 
near by looked at the sky and said: “There will 
be a storm.” 

On his journey across the sky he searched for 
reflected images of himself in order that he 


DREAM BOATS 135 

might see how severely his mouth was scorched. 
In lakes and ponds where the water was calm 
and in windows where there was no light he 
looked at his reflection, to see if he could 
discover the burn of which everyone was 
singing. 

Down into wells and springs he looked and 
in rain pools that lay in the road. He even 
searched for miniature portraits of himself in 
dewdrops that hung from the petals of wild 
flowers. 

His path led him to the stream that ran by 
the side of the gatekeeper’s house. On the 
edge of the water, tethered to a stalk of Mi¬ 
chaelmas daisies, there was the little boat, made 
of a discarded spool box. Its gay sail was 
fashioned of yellow paper, stuck through a 
twig of hazel. 

He was absorbed, in spite of the pain, by his 
honey-coloured image lying in the water. Here 
he could see his reflection and examine his lips. 


DREAM BOATS 


156 

Nowhere on this image could he find a sign of a 
bum on his pale mouth. Then a scarlet leaf 
from a maple branch that hung out and over the 
pond fell on the water where his reflection was. 
The leaf distorted the smooth surface of the 
stream and made a gay smile on his lips when 
he felt none in his heart. 

In spite of his failure to discover the burn on 
his lips, he continued to moan. Everyone said 
he had burned his mouth on cold porridge and 
even if he could not see the scorched place it 
must be there, for someone, perchance it was 
a poet, had made a rhyme about it. 

And so it was that all the people of So-and-So 
Town had been kept aw r ake for several nights, 
The annoyance developed, as you have seen, into 
a general altercation, which has been keeping 
up without ceasing all of the time that you have 
been learning the causes and reasons for the 
strange sounds. 


DREAM BOATS 


137 

“Shut up that noise,” everyone was shouting 
at everyone else. 

“Peter and Paul, save us,” said Noel from a 
low window, “to-morrow is wash day.” 

While Money, from a high window, shook 
his fist as he yelled at everybody, “Can’t you 
let a man sleep?” 

“Shut up!” 

“Shut up!” 

“What is it all about?” mumbled Mall, the 
grandmother of ten, as she drew in her ear 
trumpet from outside the window. 

Presently from the far end of the square, by 
the inn, came the sound of cheering. Next the 
loud voice of the town crier rose above the clat¬ 
ter of some nine hundred voices shouting, com¬ 
plaining, howling, and cursing. 

“Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Be patient, good neigh¬ 
bours. If ye have reason, go back to your beds 
and sleep. The occasion is very urgent that ye 

get your rest. For it is commanded bv the 
* * 


138 DREAM BOATS 

mayor that to-morrow, one and all of you 
townsfolk meet at the market place. We will 
decide without delay how the dismal noise can 
be hushed!” 

The riot began anew. Grumbling, beseech¬ 
ing, and cursing issued forth from every window. 

“Wait until to-morrow!” one shouted. 

“Faugh! No sleep to-night,” said another. 

But one and all did sleep. The moon turned 
yellow and sank out of sight behind the hills in 
the west. The town and the fields were dark. 
The stars shone brighter in the sky. Soon only 

i 

the regular snores of a fat baker came from the 
window of Weevil. Jenny Linnet’s candle splut¬ 
tered and flickered out. She had fallen asleep 
before she could snuff it. The yellow hound 
stopped baying, since there was no longer a 
moon to bay at; he slept with his nose pressed 
against his master’s door. 

Next morning the people began streaming up 
to the market place of So-and-So Town at an 


DREAM BOATS 


139 


early hour. Wren, a ploughman, had told the 
the gatekeeper’s wife Mary of the affair before 
the spool-box boat Arrow had made its second 
voyage from the large rock to the Michaelmas 
daisies. 

Thrush’s father could not go to the meeting 
in the market place as the mayor had bidden 
all the good townsfolk lest one traveller should 
pass through the gates without leaving his 
toll. 

So Mary went slowly to the market place with 
the lame child’s hand in hers as he limped by 
her side. Sometimes she stopped, sat down by 
the roadside, and took him on her lap. He 
could not walk so fast as the others and had to 
rest often because of the only hurt place she 
could not make all well with kisses. As they 
drew near the square, a low muttering now made 
itself heard, rising to a roar that seemed to fill the 
place. The market was overflowing with the 
whole population. They jostled each other 


140 


DREAM BOATS 


along the sides of it, chattering, shoving, and 
ordering everyone else to stand back, and each 
one standing as far forward himself as he could. 
Mary kept o.n the edge of the crowd until she 
came to the steps of the cobbler’s house, where 
she stood and watched, keeping the lame boy 
close beside her. 

Soon in the centre of the square, the mayor, 
a great blunt man with red hair, commanded 
silence by uplifted hands. Then he said in a 
husky voice: 

“God’s peace,good people! The dreadful noise 
must be hushed and the nights left for rest and 
sleep. If you will be patient until the council 
meets, they will decide what is best to be done.” 

The council met for an hour in the council 
house. Their faces were long and thin, and 
they sat with their heads on one side, thinking 
and thinking, their eyes fastened on the ground. 
When the hour had passed the people of So-and- 
So Town were more perplexed than they had 


DREAM BOATS 


141 

been before the council met. If they had failed 
to discover the source of the moaning and 
groaning, surely it was impossible to put an end 
to the noise. Since the meeting of the council 
had left the problem unsolved, seven of the 
wisest men of the town came together in a 
conference. But no sooner did they gather 
than they one and all wanted to show their wis¬ 
dom. However learned they were, their knowl¬ 
edge proved insufficient. 

In spite of much valiant talk, no one was 
found wise enough to free the suffering village 
of the nights of restlessness. Each hour the 
heated discussions ended in nothing. 

Now while the council was meeting and the 
wise men were displaying their wisdom, Mary 
sat in the shop of Clint, the cobbler, who was 
cobbling her shoes. While she was waiting, 
Betty Pye stopped for a bit of gossip and Posey 
played at jackstones with Thrush on the door 
step. The little girl told the lame boy the 


i 4 2 dream boats 

rhyme about The Man in the Moon and his 
poor aching mouth. 

All the meetings over, the townsfolk congre¬ 
gated in the square. Again the mayor raised 
his hands and said: 

“My good people we have faithfully debated 
—H’um”—(he tossed his head); “the only 
thing we all can agree on is this: that this sort 
of thing cannot be allowed to go on. Who it is 
that makes the noise, and how it is to be stopped, 
no one can discover. ” 

Thrush, the lame boy, who had apparently 
been gazing with childish interest at the red face 
of one of the council, gave a sudden cry of under¬ 
standing. After he had drawn his mother’s face 
down and had whispered in her ear, he limped, 
with the aid of his crutch, toward the mayor. 

“What is he doing?” asked one. 

“What is Mary thinking about?” exclaimed 
another. 

There was a low murmur as the crowd moved 


DREAM BOATS 


H3 

toward the boy. Thrush limped one step nearer 
the mayor and paused. He looked up into his 
eyes, unafraid, as he quoted: 

“The Man in the Moon 
Came tumbling down, 

And asked the way 
to Norwich. 

He went by the south 
And burned his mouth 
With eating cold 
pease porridge.” 

Then Thrush, who had never lacked love and 
devotion and sympathy to help him bear his 
own affliction, added with his childlike earnest¬ 
ness, touched by pity: 

“The poor moon hasn't anybody to kiss his 
mouth and make it all well again." 

The councillors were awestruck. Two of 
them giggled together, another complained of 
chilly feet and spat. The mayor had heard 
the rhyme, and he had said it. Now that he 
thought about it, the moaning had occurred only 
at night and the moon was almost at the full. 
Why had he not thought of that himself? 


144 


DREAM BOATS 


First of all he was angry; and then over his 
large round face there stole a smile. He nodded 
his head at the little boy. 

“He is right; the boy is right,” he chuckled. 
“Someone must kiss the Man in the Moon and 
make him well. The poor fellow has burned 
his mouth.” 

But who was tall enough to reach up and kiss 
him? No one could touch his lips even if one 
stood on the highest house. Again the council 
was summoned. Together with all the wise 
and learned men they retired behind the doors 
of the council house. 

There were the usual discussions and results. 
Then followed a long silence that was broken 
by someone yawning. A middle-aged man 
with a certain subdued drollery in his face stood 
in his black velvet and fur. He cleared his 
throat and said: 

v “The Man in the Moon is suffering from a 
burned mouth. A burned mouth is very pain- 


DREAM BOATS 145 

ful. I once received a burn on my wrist as I 
was taking a duck out of the oven for my wife. 
The moon’s groans have disturbed our sleep 
and now the town is at the point of a riot if 
something is not done to stop the noise. Birds 
fly. If a man had wings why could he not fly 
like a bird? Let us make a pair of wings. 
Choose a man with sense who can reach the 
moon and kiss the burned place.’' 

There was a low murmur of approval over the 
meeting of wise and learned councillors. And 
the men who were afraid to be simple adjourned 
to carry out their plans. 

Within an hour every inhabitant of So-and-So 
Town was running after birds, butterflies, dragon¬ 
flies, moths, beetles, bees, and all creatures that 
possess wings. 

The women gathered in a circle under the 
mulberry trees in the square. While some of 
them made the frames of twigs and branches, 
others spun and wove the little broken wings 


146 DREAM BOATS 

and feathers into a covering for the framework, 
crowding them together like the feathers on a 
bird’s wing. 

A line of yellow butterflies’ pinions, then a 
line of dragonflies’ wings were strung on a scar¬ 
let thread. A circle of the shining wings of 
hornets, wasps, and bees was placed here, and a 
star of white moths’ wings there, then a broad 
line of cardinals’ feathers between the breast 
feathers of humming birds, most beautifully 
arranged and producing a harmony of colour 
and shade. 

“Oh, they are beautiful!” exclaimed some. 
Others added: “Quite charming.” 

“Magnificent!” exclaimed the mayor, looking 
at them through his spectacles. “Such a pat¬ 
tern! And these colours! The wings have my 
highest approval!” 

“They are wonderful.” 

“Gorgeous!” 

“Excellent,” went from mouth to mouth. 


DREAM BOATS 


147 


They were all equally delighted with their 
handiwork. 

And so the feathers on a thousand throats 
ceased to swell with a song because of a rhyme 
pertaining to a pot of porridge. And a thousand 
hearts ceased their tremulous beat for the sake 
of a burn on a silver mouth. 

While the framework was being adorned and 
approved, the councilmen went through the 
streets, telling the youths and men of the great 
adventure in prospect. There was not one 
among them who did not wish to be chosen to 
soar aloft into the sky and kiss the lips of the 
Man in the Moon, to say nothing of the bag of 
gold that had been offered as a reward for re¬ 
storing to the people of So-and-So Town their 
calm and restful nights. 

Lots were drawn from the mayor’s hat. As 
the last feather from a goldfinch’s breast was 
stitched on the large false wings, Bardolph, the 
growing son of the widow Moll, drew forth from 


148 DREAM BOATS 

the hat a scrap of blue paper whereon was 
written the winner’s number. He clapped his 
hands gleefully. 

The magnificent flight was to be made an 
hour after the Man in the Moon rose over the 
roofs of the houses that surrounded the square. 

Far across the fields of stubble that lay to the 
east of So-and-So Town, a yellow moon, ap¬ 
proaching the full, rose slowly, fading the stars 
and lighting with a cool light the fields where 
the sheaves of corn stood. 

Bardolph, the goat-herd, was sunburned and 
comely, very tall, and his deep pool-like eyes 
were as tender as a wild-flower. When the 
marvellous wings were fastened to his arms at 
the wrist and elbow with broad strings of 
leather, and the harness that held them in place 
was strapped over his chest, he went to his 
mother. For a moment his head lay upon her 
breast. She caressed the golden hair ever so 
lightly, and tenderly kissed him upon the lips. 


Now having kissed his mother again and again, 
he said: “I will be sorry to leave my goats.” 
Then he started away with a quick stiff stride. 

Bardolph ran to the Town Hall, ascended to 
the roof, and crawled out to the gables. Here 
he stood, balancing against the weather vane 
that gleamed pale in the moonlight. The wings 
flashed clear as he stood for a second against 
the sky. The youth was now filled with a great 
glow of exultation and looked like an angel 
carved from weather-worn silver. 

Smiling, he turned and gazed at his mother, 
then smiled into the people’s upturned faces. 
Spreading the huge wings he saluted with them 
four times. Once to the north and once to the 
south, once to the east, and once to the west. 

Then Bajdolph gave a triumphant shout and 
flung himself into the air. 

His wrists fell and the only son of the widow 
Moll shot down the air and lay crushed and limp 
like a slain bird. 


DREAM BOATS 


150 

The crowd had moved aside when the wings 
gave way so that no one was crushed beneath the 
heart that had ceased its youthful throbbing for 
the sake of a song concerning a burned mouth. 
There was a cry of dismay and the next moment 
you might have heard a long, awed murmur go 
about the market place as the crowd of people 
watching caught its breath. The mother uttered 
a cry of despair. She sank upon her knees 
hiding her face and moaning as she cried: “He 
said he would be sorry to leave his goats.” The 
women fell to sobbing in one another’s arms so 
piteously, that the sturdy middle-aged townsfolk 
drew back and were ashamed. 

The dew was falling, the night ending in So- 
and-So Town. The yellow hound kept up his 
nightly baying in the back yard of Weevil, the 
pieman. The moon, silver and nearly full, hung 
in the sky, solitary, in his imagined suffering. 
He had not seen the tragedy that had befallen 
the widow Moll that night in the market place 


DREAM BOATS 


151 

of So-and-So Town. When it occurred he was 
looking at a miniature of himself reflected in a 
dewdrop clinging to the petal of a white bal¬ 
sam that drooped in a pot. The flower stood 
on a ledge outside of the widow Moll’s window. 
Therefore, he did not know why the moisture 
was in old Moll’s eyes, when he looked through 
the window later and saw his smiling face re¬ 
flected in a tear. Even in that miniature por¬ 
trait of himself in a broken-hearted mother’s 
eye, he could not discover the burn on his lips, 
which had become well nigh unbearable by this 
time because of the constant thinking thereon, 
and so he continued his regular moans. 

For an hour the next morning the councillors 
sat again in council. The mayor advanced to 
the council table. He said in a toneless voice: 

“This is the worst thing that could happen to 
me. Am I not fit for my post? Cannot one of 
you wise men put an end to the pest?’’ 

Every one of these men who were afraid to be 


natural shook a slow and steady “No” to his 
plea. The mayor, followed by the councillors, 
marched to the centre of the square and 
asked the people if there was not one among 
them who could suggest a plan whereby the 
village might find peace. Many suggestions 
were here offered and plans made but all of no 
avail. Until the sun began to sink behind the 
hills and the birds twittered in the tree tops, the 
mayor stood in the square considering one plan 
after another. Then he sent forth one more ap¬ 
peal to the people of So-and-So Town for help 
in this serious matter. 

Mary, the gate-keeper’s wife, was returning 
home again. The journey to the gate-house was 
long and the road would soon be dark. As she 
passed by the mayor, Thrush limped at his 
mother’s side, clasping her hand. 

“I can make him well, Mother,” he said 
earnestly. 

i 

“You,” cried his mother, another mother's 


DREAM BOATS 153 

tragedy before her eyes, “and what do you 
think you could do about it, my little boy?” 

“It is only a burn on his lip,” replied the boy 
quietly. “You know when I bump my head 
you can make it all well again if you kiss it. I’ll 
talk to him. All these people don’t understand 
him a bit. He gets his feelings hurt.” He 
told his mother what he thought he could do 
and she told the mayor. 

“Let the boy alone,” he declared, “I am not 
quite sure but that he is right. He makes 
friends with everybody. He’ll find out what the 
poor fellow needs.” 

After the mother had told the mayor the boy’s 
thoughts, he gave his consent to anything that 
might bring rest, and added a few suggestions 
to the lad’s plan. 

“Give him a trial,” the mayor said command- 
ingly to the councillors, “I like the boy, there is 
a brave light in his eyes.” 

“ Please leave it all to me,” commanded Thrush, 


154 


DREAM BOATS 


“I’ll make him all well to-night. Only please 
don’t let any one say another word about the Man 
in the Moon’s mouth.” 

Thrush found it an easy matter to set his 
mother at ease about his plan. She always took 
his word without a murmur although she sug¬ 
gested that the boy take some soda and clean 
linen with him for the burned spot. 

It was a crisp autumn night. The air was 

* 

filled with the odour of burning leaves and brush. 
The Moon at its full would soon come over the 
sea of rolling hills. All the folk of So-and-So 
Town were gathered in the square waiting for 
the promised event. 

Soon Thrush’s crutch began to knock on the 
stones of the walk. After him came his mother 
with the mayor and the councillors. The crowd 
formed in a procession and silently followed the 
limping boy. They kept at a respectful distance 
behind the councillors who walked two by two. 



“THE LITTLE • BOY • KISSED * THE • SPOT • AND • MADE • IT 

• ALL WELL” • 


































DREAM BOATS 


155 


On and on through the town they marched 
and out into the fields, over dry rustling leaves 
and falling twigs that cracked beneath their feet. 
Past the fields to the hill slopes Thrust led them. 

The people below saw him stop when he 
reached the top of the highest hill. They whis¬ 
pered to each other that he had dropped his 
crutch and that he seemed to stand very still 
against the sky, waiting. 

Then the bald silver head of the moon rose 
over the crest of the hill that seemed like the 
edge of the world. To the eager watchers below 
the boy was a little sharp-cut shape against the 
bright light of the moon’s forehead. 

“Good evening, Man,” they heard Thrush say 
politely, between the groans of the moon. - 

The Man raised his eyebrows and made a dif¬ 
ferent sort of noise. 

“I have come up here to see how you are and 
to make you all well,” continued the boy. 

The large eyes smiled courteously. Thrush 


156 DREAM BOATS 

dropped on his knees. His lips seemed to 
touch the ivory cheek as the crowd saw the 
corner of the smiling mouth rise over the 
hill-tops. 

From all sides, that still evening, could be 
heard the quick breathing of the mothers. 

The miracle had been accomplished. The 
Moon’s moans and groans ceased. Had not 
Thrush, the little boy, kissed the spot and made 
it all well? 

A gracious and gentle smile of gratitude 
spread over the Moon’s amber face as it rose 
higher and higher in the sky. Amid joyful 
shouts, shrill cries of women and children, 
little Thrush the lame son of the Gatekeeper sat 
still, filled with the power that can exist in the 
silence of a child. 


OUT OF DOORS 










WAITING DREAMS 
HERE is a pool in the Sand-man’s garden 



M. wherein he cools those dreams that must 
rest on lovely ladies’ eyes on summer nights, and 
where he washes those dreams that grow dusty 
while they are waiting to be delivered. 

There are many of these, as all the dreams 
wherein there is any love have to be made in 
the dawns and twilights of spring, even though 
they must lie on the shelves for a year. They are 
all very sweet and fragile and attract the dust from 
moths’ and butterflies’ wings, and particularly 
do they allure the pollen of certain flowers. 

Sometimes those that contain a kiss are even 
found coated with mist. This, as you must 
surely know, is star dust. The Sand-man pre¬ 
serves it to make dreams for mothers. 

And we who are not mothers can never have 


them! 


159 


A FAIRY RING TO 
VALENTINE 

W HEN a fairy feels himself falling in love, 
if perchance there has been a light, fresh 
fall of snow, he climbs up the stem of a blowing 
blade of grass, which bends to the earth beneath 
his weight. When persuaded by the varying, 
playing breezes, the grass blade traces a ring 
around him in the snow, he knows good fortune 
is his, and flies forth to woo his Fairy Love in 
some deserted milkweed seedpod wherein per¬ 
chance she dwells. 

I pray that the good Saint of this day will 
trace a fairy ring around me, that good fortune 
may be mine as I start on a quest for the place 
wherein you dwell, O my Valentine, wherever 
in the wide world you may be! When I have 
found you and looked into your eyes, may dear 
Saint Valentine inscribe around you and me the 
circle of lasting love. 

160 



• "A • FRAGILE ■ CRAFT, • PILOTED • BY • A 

• LIKE • A • STAR” • 


FAIRY, • PERCHED • 





































ON JUNE WINDS 



IFT up your heads, all ye who sigh for sum- 


J mer, for from their silken ports have set sail 
the odour-laden fleet. Soon to you, on the waves 
of the south wind, will come the scented vessels 
bearing their precious cargoes and spilling them 
recklessly. 

O fragrance of heliotrope, mimosa, andmignon- 
ette! 

The fragile crafts are piloted by a fairy 
perched like a star, holding the cobweb cables 
from the mist-like, winging sails. Above, a 
figurehead tells of coming sweetness, waving 
silken petals as they are brushed by the rippling 
breeze. 

So lift up your heads, ye sighers for the sum- 

mer, breathe in your fill of their perfume as it 

blows against your cheek. Sweetly it touches 

161 


162 DREAM BOATS 

you with its soft caresses, the lingering fresh¬ 
ness pervading everything. And then, swiftly 
it is gone, murmuring only to the bees the 
name of the harbour which is home. 


TO MY GROWN-UP SELF 


^LL the days of my life as I sat dreaming on 
the fountain of my youth I dreamed of that 
day when you would come. The blooming of 
springtime over the garden of my youth where 
the fountain ever sang itself into circles that 
spread around the lilies of the pool, told me 
your coming was near. And when the im¬ 
mortal peacock that had dreamed all its life on 
the fountain of my youth had awakened from its 
dreams and preened the feathers of its breast, 
I was afraid that the peacock would never dream 
again, and the fountain’s plashing waters would 
cease to hold the lilies in its ceaseless circles, 
and I would lose the dreams one dreams only 
at the fountain of life’s springtime. 

But when spring had come and you had sat 
beside me at the fountain of my youth, in your 
eyes I found youth immortal: for together we 
could dream with the peacock on the margin of 

your fountain and mine. 

163 


SNAPDRAGONS 


I N THE world of hot and windless summer 
days, it is watering time for the thirsting flock 
of pink and yellow dragons, whose fiercest 
flights are their gentle swayings back and forth 
as they are caressed by summer breezes. 

Down through the summer night, on sound¬ 
less wings, the fairies of the starlight make their 
way, each bearing a goblet of dew from out the 
fountains of the air. And when the fairies have 
reached the end of their pathless flight, resting 
on still wings they press the dragon's silken 
sides. 

Eagerly he snaps his fragile mouth wide to 
receive the cooling drink, as the fairies tip the 
goblet, and spill the dew from out the fountains 
that play incessantly, perhaps on some remote 


star. 


164 



“IT • IS ' WATERING • TIME * FOR • THE * THIRSTING * FLOCK • OF * 
• PINK • AND • YELLOW • DRAGONS” • 














AS POSTED BY LEGAL 
AUTHORITY 


A REWARD of fourteen dreams will be 
given for information leading to the ar¬ 
rest and conviction of those persons guilty of 
starting the unjust and unkind rumour: 

“Lady bug, Lady bug, fly away home, 

Your house is on fire and your children 
will burn.” 


I THE undersigned, Shrimpie Snippet, am re¬ 
lated to Lady bugs. I am so nearly related 
that I have never heard the fire alarms yet that I 
did not fly—not home; Alas! I have no home 
to which to fly, no children have I to burn. But 
as fast as I can, do I run to the Lady bug’s home 

that is reported burning. 

165 


DREAM BOATS 


I SHRIMPIE SNIPPET, own a Lady bug all 
of my own. To make her walk forward, you 
must make her walk backward ten steps, then 
she will walk forward twenty steps. If you try 
to make her walk forward before she has walked 
backward ten steps, she will stand still and never 
walk forward or backward again. 

T HEREFORE, am not I, Shrimpie Snippet, 
right in endeavouring to discover the mis¬ 
creant who is the cause of so much unrest, so 
much uneasiness, so much agitation against my 
dear kinspeople, the Lady bugs? 

ID possessing a Lady bug, as I do, who 



JTjL will walk forward in proper Lady bug 
fashion, if she is made to walk backward ten 
steps before she starts forward, have not I, 
Shrimpie Snippet, every right to try to put an 
end to this upsetting gossip? 


Signed: Shrimpie Snippet. 


SWEET APRIL 


~'RIL! my silver-sandled sister, your sing- 



X X ing comes to me on the first wave of the 
spring’s warming wind. Soon over the green 
earth will you dance right merrily, with hoops 
of singing birds swinging from your ears. The 
silent shadows of these singing birds are as 
bracelets around your arms that wave, first this 
way (making the daffodils unfold their shining 
faces), and then that way (breaking the sweet 
bird’s egg and sending forth a bonny song). 

I have waited so long, my sister—sister April 
—since my true love left me; with you I need 
to dance. When buds are breaking and birds 
singing merrily, dance with me, dance with me 
to the ripple of the rain. As over your golden 
path we move so lightly, let my arms wave with 
yours that I, too, may break one sweet blue egg. 


167 


My heart will throb with gladness if I can free 
one song for summer. And perhaps I, who 
must remember, will forget that my love has 
left me, and has forgotten that I must live 
through a silver-scented spring. 



• “WHEN * BUDS • ARE • BREAKING • AND • BIRDS ' SINGING 
• MERRILY, • DANCE * WITH - ME" • 

















































. 








































































ALONE 


4LL silently out into a summer night leaned 
/ \ a little moonflower on the very border¬ 
land of birth. 

With a sigh softer than the stirring of a bird- 
ling within a blue egg, it said, from its infolded 
self, so soft, so sweet: 

“ Forth from my heart I shall send a wealth 
of pure white petals. I shall keep them so in¬ 
nocent and spotless that as a beacon against the 
night they will gleam like a star. 

“I shall breathe forth such a fragrance of 
sorrowful sweetness that it will lure the loveliest 
of the butterflies—blue patterned on gold, gold 
on ivory—to come to me and sip his fill of my 
silver honey.” 

The little bloom in a moon-moulded nativity, 

all expectantly unfolded frail light petals, reveal- 

169 


170 


DREAM BOATS 


ing itself as pure as a baby’s palm, wistfully 
sweet. 

Trembling on a fragile stem it forced itself 
beyond the embrace of the tendrils of the moon- 
flower vine. But only a moth came and so¬ 
journed within its sweetness until the setting 
of the stars. 

When dawn had laid a purple light over the 
garden wide, the lonely little flower folded a 
vanquished heart deep within drooping petals 
and was about to die. Then the butterfly of its 
ivory and blue and gold dream came to gather 
the ravaged treasure. 

But so assuredly had it enwrapped fading pet¬ 
als around its heart that not even all the stars of 
another summer night could unveil its silken 
sadness. 


A LITTLE DREAM THAT 
WANDERED 

ST, Strayed, or Stolen: 



Jt_ J On Easter Eve, from Littleboy Love¬ 

lock’s garden, a Dream. 

Small and shaped like the bulb of a lily, made 


of April’s melted snowflakes, and April’s first 


buds, and the down from under baby birds’ 
wings. 

This dream was designed for a baby girl born 
on Easter Day, and was to be the first she ever 
had. All the years of her life it was to have 
been repeated on the night preceding her 
birthday. 

If returned to Littleboy Lovelock before this 
baby is fourteen days old the finder will be re¬ 
warded with a dream of a waterfall, a singing 
bird, and a blooming tree. 


If not returned and the dream is found in any 
one's possession, he or she will be inflicted with 
a dream that will make him or her think that he 
or she has measles, mumps, and “getting mad”- 
ness at one and the same time. 


SUMMER BREEZES 


O VER the hills and through the valleys Sum¬ 
mer strays with her scarf of light winds, 
and, with utter sweetness, caresses the weeds 
and flowers, blessing every blossom with a pre¬ 
cious drink of dew, while Winter draws his gar¬ 
ment of frost around him and stands remotely 
aside, silently waiting for something beautiful 
to happen. 

With her scarf blowing against our faces, Sum¬ 
mer gives to each of us her gift of bird and bee 
and bloom. 


173 


AUTUMN’S COLOUR 


ALL the days of my life I have roamed the 
world over in quest of the rainbow’s end 
—“where” (a wise man said) “you will find a pot 
of gold, filled to the brim and overflowing.” 

Alas, 1 cannot find itl 

And so, to stay at home and be content, I 
listened to the fairies (they are wiser than the 
wisest man in the whole world), and I believe 
them when they tell me what I would have found 
had I reached the end of my quest: 

“ At the end of the rainbow there is not a pot 
of gold, but seven great pots brimming over 
with colours. Up in the air, on the other side 
of the wide, wide world, a fountain is silently 
playing: first red; then orange; afterward yel¬ 
low and green; blue, then indigo and violet. 

“ The rainbow is the colour spilling from the 

i74 



• “WHENCE • DO • THE • ELVES • GET • ALL * THE • COLOUR • 
• THEY • NEED * WITH ■ WHICH • TO * PAINT • THE • 

• FLOWERS, • FRUITS • AND ■ FOLIAGE?” • 


















- «• 





























DREAM BOATS 


1 75 

fountain’s seven basins and flowing in circled 
paths across the sky into the brims of the wait¬ 
ing pots.” 

If this is not true, pray tell me, whence do 
the elves of the autumn get all the colour they 
need with which to paint the flowers, fruits, and 
foliage? 


LITTLE BIRDS 


O NCE upon a time there was a boy named 
Dickie Dear who tried very hard to make 
himself grow up. But try as hard as he might, 
he could not succeed. 

Nowhere in the whole wide world could he 
find the adventure he thought he wanted, but 
really did not need at all. 

Now this Dickie Dear lived in a little brown 
house, which half of the day lay in the shadow 
of a tall, gray church steeple. Up in the belfry 
lived families of birds, and in the vines that grew 
between the windows of the church lived other 
families of birds. Through all the dawns of 
winter this boy named Dickie Dear listened to 
the chattering of the birds—those delightful 
chatterings that always occur in families that 

live in nests and little brown houses which lie 

176 


in the shadow of gray church steeples. Through 
all the noons in spring, Dickie Dear watched 
the building of new bird-homes and listened to 
the chattering of the busy families. 

One day a man came to paint the window- 
frames of the church, and he began his work by 
pulling down the vines wherein these chattering 
families had built new homes. The boy named 
Dickie Dear rushed out of the little brown house 
which lay in the shadow of the gray church 
steeple, and he ran over to the man, who was 
only doing what he had been told to do. But 
Dickie Dear was too late! The homes were all 
destroyed; the chattering babies lay squashed in 
the shadow of the tall church steeple! 

Dickie Dear came back to the little brown 
house, and, because he was very, very unhappy, 
shut the door very, very hard, which shook the 
little brown house, and made some of his play¬ 
things fell off the shelves whereon they were 
wont to stand. 


178 DREAM BOATS 

On one shelf, through the dawns of winter and 
the noons of spring, had stood a lonely doll. 
He had travelled all the way from China! Of 
course, he was a heathen Chinaman, but very 
good for all that. Now this Chinaman, with the 
other toys, had fallen off the shelf and lay on the 
floor with his head thrown out of the hole in his 
blue coat where one’s head should always be. 

Dickie Dear felt very sorry for all his toys, but 
he was sorriest for the Chinaman, for he knew 
it must be very unpleasant to have one’s head 
out of place. So he picked up the Chinaman, 
put his head in the hole of his coat where heads 
usually grow, and stood him in his rightful 
place upon the shelf. 

Ever since the Chinaman had arrived from 
China he had not spoken a single word, but this 
painful adventure—for a certain reason which I 
really cannot explain—made him sing. Not 
being a Chinaman, I cannot sing the song as he 
did, but this is how it sounded to me: 


DREAM BOATS 


179 


“ Dickie, dear boy, don’t be sad for the little birds that 
lie squashed in the shadow of the great gray church. A 
moment ago I lay squashed upon the floor. Just as you 
have made me as I was, so Some One makes the little 
birds just as they were. You see me as I was because 
I am only a heathen Chinaman, but you cannot see the 
little birds as they were because One who guards each of 
His little children as you have guarded me, has made 
them little birds again in a golden world called Paradise.” 









DREAM BOATS 
PLAY 





DREAM BOATS 
PLAY 

PRELUDE 


PLAYFELLOWS 
Robin Ringlet 
Davy— the little boy 
A Prologue 

An Alien-kinsman to the Fairies 

A Sea-horse 

You 

You are sitting in the left-hand box. Now 
sit up in a proper fashion as though you 
have escorted two lovely ladies to see the 
play. You, over there y are sitting in the 
parquet and You are in the first balcony . 
Everyone else is in the peanut gallery . Iam 
glad you are because you can eat peanuts. 

T am the actors. I hope you will like me. 

183 


184 DREAM BOATS —PLAY 

The scenery for the play is a picture inside a 
picture frame showing two boats drifting 
on a Summer sea at moonrise . The figure¬ 
head on the first boat is a feather from a 
white peacock's tail. A large quivering 
bubble serves as a figurehead for the 
second boat which is drifting in the wake 
the first boat leaves in the water behind it. 
Before the rise of the theatre curtain enter 
from the left A Prologue. He crosses to 
the centre of the stage , carefully turning 
out his toes. 

A Prologue. This is not a play because the 
author (who wrote it) is not a playwright. There¬ 
fore, it is not a play. 

It is better than a play, for you have to come to 
play with us and we are going to play with you. 
Therefore, it is play-play-play! 

He pauses, looks quickly and suddenly 

\ 

to the right and to the left. 

A Prologue. All the babies that come into this 


DREAM BOATS —PLAY 185 
world hold something in their tiny hands. All 
Mothers know that, but few realize that the little 
fingers are clasping with all their might and main 
the invisible key to the Magic Casement. In some 
way nearly every baby learns (I believe it is whis¬ 
pered to them by nurse maids) the delightful 
things teeth will do when the cutting time is over. 

Therefore, babies use all the strength they have 
cutting first teeth. Some day in this venture they 
open their hands and lose the key. They do not 
realize that they can never get it back again and, 
therefore, will never catch a glimpse of the ships 
that sail on sunlit seas in fairy lands. 

You, who have not cut your second teeth, come 
and play with us I 

You, who are little children, come! 

You, who are children still and do not know it, 
pretend that you are and tell us with your smiles 
that you can hear the echo of far-away youth 
sounding through the veils of leaves that have 
fallen in the years you have so seriously counted. 


186 DREAM BOATS —PLAY 

A Prologue exits at the right. An 
Alien-kinsman to the fairies , bearing 
aloft a large globe of gold-fishy enters 
from the left. As he appears he speaks 
solemnly but with animation. 

An Alien-kinsman. O Fiddlesticks! I started 
with the wrong toe! 

He turnSy starts with the other footy 
crosses to the centre y places the globe 
of gold-fish on the floor at the front of 
the stage. He takes a peppermint 
drop from the bag that hangs on a 
cord from his army and presents it to 
someone in the audience y then he draws 
his index finger across his teeth three 
timeSy for no reason at all—and exits 
at the right. 

Reenter from the right A Prologue, who 
points to the gentleman who has just 
retired. 

A Prologue. That, as you must surely know, 


DREAM BOATS —PLAY 187 
is an alien-kinsman to the fairies. He is peev¬ 
ish with you and me because, by a spell of magic, 
he has been transformed into half and half a 
human being. 

He is angry with you and with me because 
neither you nor I had anything to do with his 
transformation (which proves he is half human). 

He sharpened his teeth at you,—that does not 
mean he wants to eat you up. 

He became very cross when you did not look 
at him through opera glasses. There is nothing 
that gives him so much delight as being looked 
at through opera glasses (another proof of his 
human nature). 

I am sorry to have to inform you he will act 
his trivial part in this play over and over again 
until everyone pretends that he is looking at the 
alien-kinsman of the fairies through opera glasses. 

A Prologue holds his hands to his eyes 
like opera glasses as a suggestion of 
what must be done and exits at the left. 


188 


DREAM BOATS—PLAY 
Reenter from the right An alien-kinsman 
who crosses to the centre, takes up the 
globe of gold-fish, and crosses to • the 
left, then he turns and does it all over 
again. 

An Alien-kinsman, O Fiddlesticks I I started 
on the wrong toe. 

He recrosses to the centre, again places 
the globe of gold-fish in same spot, 
presents peppermint to the same person, 
and sharpens his teeth three times as 
before. As he retires he stops and 
looks to see if everyone is pretending 
to look at him through the opera 
glasses. 

If there is any one who does not enter into 
his spirit of the play, he takes up the 
gold-fish globe, turns and repeats in 
detail his part until everyone pretends 
to look at him through the glasses, 
lichen that delightful thing is consum- 


DREAM BOATS —PLAY 189 

mated he smiles for the first time and 
exits at the right . 

THE PLAY ITSELF 

At the rise of the theatre curtain Robin 
Ringlet is discovered sitting in the 
first boat , with his hands clasping his 
kneesy head thrown back , looking at a 
star which is directly overhead . 
After a moment or two he sings. 

Robin Ringlet . Ringlet, Ringlet,* 

Wind a little stringlet, 

Make a little swinglet 
And swing, swing, swing. 
Then without looking to right or left in 
a dreamy voice , he says: 

The Loveliest Lady in the whole wide world plays 
games with me. She gave me a star for my very 
own, and she gave me a birthday. I like it more 
than I do my real birthday. On that day I do 

*This is the song Mary Chickweed, the Seedwom- 
an,’sent to Robin Ringlet on his fourth birthday. 


igo DREAM BOATS —PLAY 
not know when I Was born; it is pleasant to 
forget the date of your birth. In the sunshiny 
days of Springtime I can be sixteen and when 
Autumn has made the days gray I can be sixty. 
When you forget the exact date of your birth, it 
is as delightful to be sixty as sixteen. You do not 
feel you must at any time mind drafts, as all 
people do who know the hour, the day, the month, 
and the year of their birth. The Fairest lady 
presented me also with ninety-nine names and on 
my birthday she sent me ninety-nine gifts,—a 
present for every name. But on a day, once 
upon a time, my sweetest lady went away on a 
long, long journey. Before leaving, she took me 
into the park and put me into a little boat. It 
was a shell, blue inside and out, and once 
had been the house wherein a fish of some sort 
had lived in a warm Southern sea. She tied 
my boat to the North Star so I would not 
grow up while she was gone. And then she 
went away. 


Here, I have waited for many long, lonely days, 
wishing for her to come back, drifting around and 
around the star to which my boat is tethered. 

One day the Loveliest Lady sent me another 
little boat, a pearl-like shell from a far-away blue 
sea. I fastened it to the boat I am in and it is 
drifting in the wake my first boat is leaving in the 
water behind it. 

Sometimes I am afraid the star to which my 
boat is tethered will set and take the boats and 
me into the dark places beyond the world. 

Every evening I wish on the first star, that she 
would send me so many boats that they would 
stretch over the sea and all around the world 
until I came to the land where she is now. 

Around and around the star I am drifting as 
the cow eats the grass in a ring around the tether 
in my Father’s pasture. 

Around and around the star the Loveliest Lady 
gave me, I am drifting, waiting for her to come 
back to play games with me. 


192 


'DREAM boats—play 


He sings — 

Ringlet, Ringlet, 

Wind a little stringlet, 

Make a little swinglet, 

And swing, swing, swing. 

Suddenly out of the wave at the prow of 
the first boat there appears upon ad¬ 
venture bent , a little nibbling nose. It 
is a Sea-horse who sneezes three times. 

Robin Ringlet {somewhat taken back). You 
are a horse. 

A Sea-horse {stares at boy for a second ). 
Are you animal, mineral, or vegetable ? 

Robin Ringlet. None, I am a boy. 

A Sea-horse. {Sneezes again three times.) 

Robin Ringlet {positively). You are a horse. 

A Sea-horse. How did you know it? 

Robin Ringlet. You spit on me. If horses 
sneeze when you are riding behind them, they 
always spit on you, and never say Excuse me. 
My Daddy said I must always say excuse me 


DREAM BOATS — PLAY 


193 


when I have to sneeze, and when any one else 
sneezes always say, God bless you. 

A Sea-horse (jerks up his head and does as 
he is told). Excuse me. 

Robin Ringlet, God bless you. 

A Sea-horse, My mother and father went 
aw’ay when I was a colt. I never had any one to 
tell me what to say. They only said “Gee-up” 
and “Whoa”. I’ll do everything your Daddy 
told you to do if you will tell me. 

Robin Ringlet, Promise? 

A Sea-horse. Cross my heart and spit three 
times. 

Robin Ringlet. I think it was awful for your 
mother to leave you. 

A Sea-horse . It was not. My father was a 
jumper and my mother can make a mile in one 
minute eleven and one-fifth seconds. ( He 
neighs , and rears upright with pride.) I am 
going to be a circus horse when I grow up; a 
Mermaid with a pink and gold tail will ride on 


194 DREAM BOATS —PLAY 
my back. She will swim right through hoops 
and rings, too. What are you going to be when 
you are a man ? 

Robin Ringlet . Sea Captain. I am going to 
have an albatross and a star tattooed on my left 
arm and on my right arm I will have L. L. in¬ 
closed within a circle. Everyone will know 
L. L. stands for Loveliest Lady. I’m going to 
have a two-bladed bone-handled knife. My ship 
will be a three-master with seventy guns, and the 
cabin will be packed brim full of raspberry jam. 
I’ll have a line of brass cannon all along the deck. 
My men will fire every time I give the order. I’ll 
sail across the Pacific and hunt for sharks and 
whales and icebergs. I’ll bring a ship load of 
sea-shells and parrot’s feathers and smelly flowers 
to my loveliest lady. And I won’t ever part my 
hair in the middle. Don’t you hate to have your 
hair brushed? 

A Sea-horse . Never had it brushed. Nobody 
ever told me to. 


DREAM BOATS—PLAY 195 

Robin Ringlet. Nobody? Not even your 
nurse? 

A Sea-horse. Never had a nurse. 

Robin Ringlet. It must be fine when you 
don’t have to be held by the chin and have your 
hair brushed and brushed and brushed. It is not 
so bad when they let you do it yourself. You 
don’t have to hold your own chin tight to keep 
your head still. 

A Sea-horse . Why do your have it brushed if 
you don’t like it? 

Robin Ringlet. Because if I don’t, I shall get 
a cowlick. 

A Sea-horse. Do horses have cowlicks? 

Robin Ringlet. I don’t know. 

A Sea-horse laughs y but no one would 
ever have known it for Sea-horses 
never let any one see them laugh. It 
is not good breeding. 

A Sea-horse. A mackerel told me that all 
horses have to be curry-combed every morning 


196 DREAM BOAT S—P LAY 

and every night. I can’t imagine how it feels, but 
if your Daddy says it is right, why, then it must 
be elegant and genteel. Did your Daddy say 
that all fine horses have to have their tails docked ? 

Robin Ringlet. No, he did not say anything 
about tails. 

Robin Ringlet and A Sea-horse are 
thoughtful . Then A Sea-horse points 
with his nose to the figurehead on the 
first boat. 

A Sea-horse. What is that? 

Robin Ringlet . Figurehead. 

A Sea-horse. What’s a figurehead? 

Robin Ringlet (with an air of superior wis¬ 
dom). A figurehead is an ornamental image on 
the prow of a vessel. 

A Sea-horse. What is yours? 

Robin Ringlet. Peacock’s feather. 

A Sea-Horse . Why do you have that? 

Robin Ringlet . Because it has an eye. 

A Sea-Horse. It is only a feather one. 


DREAM BOATS —PLAY 197 

Robin Ringlet. But it has an eye just the 
same. Nearly everything you learn comes 
through your eyes. 

A Sea-horse. It can’t see. 

Robin Ringlet . It can’t see, it can’t wink, and 
it doesn’t cry. It is the only sort of eye that can 
look straight into the face of the Sun and never 
blink once. 

A Sea-horse. A needle’s eye doesn’t blink. 

Robin Ringlet. It doesn’t blink because it’s 
always stuffed full of thread. 

A Sea-horse (is slightly puzzled). What does 
it mean ? 

Robin Ringlet . It means it is an honest, 
straightforward boat. That is the only sort of 
boat my loveliest lady would leave me in. Her 
heart is brimming over with beautiful thoughts. 
She can think the loveliest things and play the 
nicest games. 

A Sea-horse (sniffs and proudly displays his 
wider knowledge of water information). This is 


198 DREAM BOATS —PLAY 
not a thought and it is not a game. It is a dream 
that keeps you from growing up. It is a dream in 
which you can play and play and play, for as long 
as you pretend you will not grow up, you won't. 

Robin Ringlet (earnestly ). Is it a really truly 
really dream ? 

A Sea-horse {smiles and nods slightly ). True 
as blue. 

Robin Ringlet . Of all the ladies in the whole 
wide world only my lovely lady would think to 
leave me in a little shell that has turned into a 
dream. I love dreams. My Daddy has told me 
that he feels I am safe when I am in a dream. I 
am so happy. Mother and Daddy know I am 
safe now because I am dreaming. Maybe they 
are standing by my bed and can see how happy 
and safe I am. 

A Sea-horse . Dreams, you know, leave wakes 
behind them as well as boats. Wakes are heaps 
and heaps of small bubbles and the bubbles that 
form the wake of a dream are full of wonder, 


DREAM BOATS —PLAY 199 
beauty, and delight. It is as nice to follow in the 
wake of a dream as it is to be in the dream 
itself. 

This unwonted philosophy goes suddenly 
to A Sea-horse’s head, He instantly 
becomes a Reformer and starts finding 
fault with poor Robin Ringlet on the 
instant, 

You are a selfish boy because you have no one 
riding in the boat that is following in the wake of 
your dream. I do not play with selfish people. 
I will not have anything to do with them. {He 
neighs with scorn,) Good-day, selfish Robin 
Ringlet. 

He disappears , the curl of his vanish¬ 
ing tail expressing utter indifference to 
everything on boats or land, 

> 

Robin Ringlet, Sea-horse, Sea-horse, Whoa! 
Whoa! Please don’t swim away. I’ll be un¬ 
selfish. I’ll try my best to be unselfish. Oh, he 
has gone away and left me. 


200 


DREAM BOATS-PLAY 
He looks around , heaves a deep sigh , 
pausesy then sighs again more heavily 
than before and says sadly: 

My dream is not so nice now. 

Leaning over the side of the boaty and 
holding his hand like a cup he brings 
up some bubbles , which he throws into 
the airy and quotes: 

“Whatever goes up is obliged to come down, 
Either on your head or either on the ground.” 

But ROBIN finds that this is not much of 
a game to play when a little boy is 
lonely y so he cries out: 

It is not any fun when there is not anybody's 
head for it to fall on! 

Again he leans over the side of the boaty 
but brings up only one bubble this 
time and opens it joyfully. Out of it 
he takes a white feather from a bird's 
wing but all he could think about was: 

If the Sea-horse had waited, I would have been 


willing to say I was wrong, as a man should. I 
am a selfish boy. But Daddy said I must not 
blubber. 

He stands and looks around the horizon 
then up to the star , then thoughtfully 
at the feather. The star gives him 
an idea. He picks up his cap from 
the bottom of the boat and puts it on 
and makes the wish that will add 
this feather to it. He starts out fast 
enough and ends in a rapid jumble: 

“ Star light, Star bright, 

First star I have seen to-night, 

I wish I may, I wish I might 

Have the wish I have wished to-night." 

(Th en he calls out loud): Somebody! Some¬ 
body! Somebody! Please come and follow in 
the wake of my dream. And make me an un¬ 
selfish boy! 

From the rear of the audience comes a 
boy who calls to him. 


202 


DREAM BOATS—PLAY 


Davy . Hello! 

Robin Ringlet• Hio, Hi-o! 

Now that he has proved to himself that 
he is no longer selfish, Robin gaily 
sticks the feather in his cap. 

Davy comes up on the stage , pauses with 
wonder before the picture , looks cur¬ 
iously into the gold-fish globe , and he 
sticks his finger into the water. 

Robin Ringlet. Get into the boat that is 
following in the wake of my dream. 

As Davy steps into the second boat his 
coat drops off , revealing him in clothes 
like Robin Ringlet. The coat falls 
over the frame partly inside and part¬ 
ly out of the picture . 

Robin Ringlet (turns and faces Davy). What 
is your name ? 

Davy. (out of breath from the long journey 
out of the audience into a dream). Davy. What 
is yours ? 


DREAM BOATS —PLAY 203 

Robin Ringlet . Robin Ringlet. Have you 
any nick-names? 

Davy {sadly). They used to call me Little 
Boy. But no one does any more. 

Robin Ringlet. Why not? 

Davy {bitterly). They thought I was no 
longer a little boy, and so they said I did not 
need it. Have you any names besides Robin? 

Robin Ringlet {with pride). Ninety-nine; I 
would give you one of them if I could. But the 
Loveliest Lady in the whole wide world gave them 
to me. I could not part with one of them for 
anything. Davy, I will call you Little Boy and 
we can play and play. I’ll let you make a wish 
on my first star. There it is. {Pointing straight 
overhead). 

Davy. I wish- 

Robin Ringlet {interrupting). You must not 
tell your wish or it will not come true. On my 
star you may make only a wish for your Mother. 
Look at the star. Then kiss the palm of your 



204 DREAM BOATS—PLAY 

left hand. Blow the kiss to your Mother and 

say—“Star light, Star bright.” 

Davy {kisses the palm of his left hand , places his 
left handover his heart, after blowing a milk-weed 
seed into the audience). A wish for my Mother: 

“Star light, Star bright, 

First star I’ve seen to-night, 

I wish I may, I wish I might, 

Have the wish I wish to-night.” 

{He looks at the star longingly.) Oh, I hope it 
will come true. 

Robin Ringlet. I do, too. 

Davy. Can you say all of your ninety-nine 
names ? 

Robin Ringlet {with pride). Yes, and I can 
say the English Kings. Can you? 

Davy. No, I can’t say all the kings of 
England but I can say the books of the Bible. 
{IVith sing-song expression .) Genesis, Exodus, 

Leviticus,Numbers, Deuter-ron- 

But how could he keep his mind on the 



DREAM BOATS—PLAY 


205 


books of the Bible when there were so 
many questions of his own that he 
wanted to ask? So he stopped sud¬ 
denly and demanded: 

What port are we sailing for? 

Robin Ringlet. We are not sailing. We are 
drifting around and around a star to which our 
boats are tethered. 

Davy. I thought we were sailing for San 
Salvador, China, and Peru to hunt in caves for 
pirates and hidden treasures. 

Robin Ringlet. The boats are fastened to the 
North Star. We are drifting around and around, 
dreaming and dreaming in a world where we can 
sail anywhere we like. 

Davy. I want to go to the South Pole. 

Robin Ringlet. You cannot. Jack Frost will 
nip off your nose, my Loveliest Lady will not love 
you unless you have a nose. 

Davy. If I did not have a nose, they would 
not keep saying to me, “Don’t Sniffle.” 


206 DREAM BOATS —PLAY 

Robin Ringlet. You will have to follow in the 
white path of bubbles my boat is leaving in the 
water behind it. I am going to sail into the 
Torrid Zone to hunt for heathen and cannibals. 
As soon as I can catch one I am going to cross 
the Atlantic, and bring a ship load of fruits and 
flowers to my Loveliest Lady. 

Davy ( delighted ). Can I bring her one? 

Robin Ringlet . A heathen, a fruit, a cannibal, 
or a flower. 

Davy . Orange. Isn't it funny you don't have 
to see her to love her? 

Robin Ringlet. You can bring her an orange 
if you obey all my orders. 

Davy. But I am the captain of this boat. 
Whom will I order? 

Robin Ringlet. Nobody. You are the captain 
of one of the boats that makes my Dream Fleet. 
The Loveliest Lady gave me all the boats. She 
put me in this one so I could not grow up. 

Davy. Have you seen any whales ? 


Robin Ringlet . No. But I saw a Sea-horse. 
He told me it was not a really truly boat I am 
drifting in, but a ship that is in a dream. Dreams 
leave wakes behind them as well as boats. The 
Sea-horse said I was a selfish boy because I did 
not ask any one to follow in the wake of my dream. 
In the bubbles of the path in which your boat 
will sail there are gifts to you from the fairies. 
Here is one. 

Robin takes one bubble from the water. 

Oh! Inside of it, there is a nut e 

This is a nut that grew on a tree where nuts 
usually grow. There is a squirrel in the park 
waiting for this very nut. When he comes and 
takes it out of your hand, you will know that you 
are being introduced to Sir Christopher Squirrel. 

Davy (delighted ). Can I have one? 

Robin Ringlet . They are all for you, Little Boy. 

Davy (takes a bubble ). In this one there is an 
acorn cup . What does it mean? 

Robin Ringlet . It means that sometime you 


208 DREAM BOATS —PLAY 
will be very thirsty. Someone will give you, no, 
not a chocolate ice cream soda, as I believe you 
are thinking, no,—a cup of cold water. It will 
be the sweetest drink you have ever had. 

Davy. How can you tell what they mean ? 

Robin Ringlet (fumbling in his coat pocket). I 
have sea-weed seed. When you have sea-weed 
seed in the pocket that is right over your heart, 
you can understand fish-talk and you can sing the 
songs that are inside of bubbles. 

Davy . I wish I had some. I will give you an 
agate and three chinies for some. 

Robin Ringlet. I will not sell them. If you 
obey all the orders given by the Rear Admiral 
Commodore Adjutant General L. L. D. F., I 
might give you some. 

Davy (in awe). Are you a Rear Comy-dorc, 

Gen-ral- 

Robin Ringlet (stands , turns , and faces Davy). 
Rear Admiral, Commodore Adjutant General 
L. L. D. F. 



DREAM BOATS—PLAY 


209 


Davy. What is L. L. D. F? 

Robin Ringlet (.shakes a warning finger ). 
Loveliest Lady’s Dream Fleet. 

Davy (.salutes ). O! I’ll obey all your orders, 
Rear Admiral Commodore General Robin 
Ringlet L. L. D. F., and I’ll give you my agate, 
too. 

Robin Ringlet {salutes). Thanks, Captain Davy 
Littleboy. Stand up!—Don’t shake the boat!— 
Sit down. 

Davy {obeys the orders). What can we do to 
make it last out? 

Robin Ringlet. I don’t want it to last out. 
As soon as it is over my Loveliest Lady will come 
back. 

Davy . What else did the Sea-horse say? 

Robin Ringlet. He told me what he was going 
to be and I told him what I was going to be. 

Davy. What are you going to be? 

Robin Ringlet {with dignity). Sea Captain. 

Davy. I am going to be a Major General. 


2io DREAM BOATS-PLAY 
My father was a Major and Mother said, if I do 
all my long divisions, she will give me his sword 
one day. 

Robin Ringlet. Where is your Mother? 

Davy {pointing). There, fourth row, centre. 
{when he sees his Mother) I wish I could take 
her one bubble. 

Robin Ringlet {looks for Davy’s Mother; 
finds her and smiles). You can, if you will 
come back. You can take her two bubbles. 
Take heaps and heaps. Take as many as you 
can carry and come back and get some more. 

Davy fills his arms full. 

Robin Ringlet. Can’t you carry more than 
that? Stuff your pockets full, stuff them in your 
shirt. Fill your hat full. Why didn’t you bring 
a hat that would hold water ? 

IFith his arms full of bubbles , Davy 
steps out of the boat over the picture 
frame to the fore-stage. 

Robin Ringlet {standing). Halt! Captain 


DREAM BOATS—PLAY 


211 


Little Boy ! About face I You cannot sing the 
songs that are inside of bubbles unless you have 
sea-weed seed in your pocket. 

Robin puts some seed into Davy’s pocket. 

Davy. Thanks, Robin. 

Robin Ringlet. Thank you, Little Boy! I am 
not selfish ! 

Looks beyond the audience , as though he 
were searching the horizon for a ship 
that will bring back the Loveliest Lady. 

As Davy turns away from the picture , 
the curtain falls behind him , hiding 
the two boats and leaving him with his 
arms full of bubbles. He places the 
bubbles in a pile near the gold-fish 
globe. kHhen he discovers the audience 
again , for he has forgotten all about 
them , he spreads his arms with delight. 
He takes one of the bubbles and from 
it he draws a White Feather saying , as 
he presents it to someone in the audience. 


212 DREAM BOATS —PLAY 

Davy. This is a feather from a Mother bird’s 
wing. It signifies that soon your dear Mother 
will take you in her lap, you will lay your head 
on her arm and sleep. It will be so sweet you 
will not know you are asleep. 

He comes back to the pile of bubbles , 
takes another which he presents to 
someone , and still another , until he 
has given away all of them. 
kHithin the bubbles are hidden the 
following gifts: 

Seven Sunflower Seeds —* 

Goldfinches are cousins to the fairies, twice 
removed on their Mother’s side. They are very 
fond of sunflower seed. Plant these seeds in a 
garden and give the goldfinches a dinner. For 
your kindness to their relatives, the fairies will 
reward you with good fortune. 

Snail's Shell — 

This is a snail’s house. When a snail goes on a 


DREAM BOATS—PLAY 


213 


journey, he carries his house with him packed 
on his back. If he grows weary he crawls into 
his house and takes a nap. It signifies: “Soon 
you will go on a long, slow journey.” 

Pressed Pansy — 

This little flower raised its head out of Robin 
Ringlet’s blue bowl. It said, “Give me the sweet¬ 
est gift you have.” The nicest gift I have to give 
the little flower is that it comes to live with you. 

Blue Bag of White Stones — 

If you are walking in the woods and suddenly 
feel you are going to get lost, drop these pebbles 
in your path. When you are lost, they will lead 
you home. 

A Seed Ball from a Sweet Gum Tree — 

This is a ball that grew on a tree where balls do 
not usually grow. It is a charm to prevent those 
people looking at you who stare and glare. 
Show them this ball when they gaze at you, 



214 


DREAM BOATS—PLAY 


immediately they will stop staring and look at 
the sky. 

A Sea-shell — 

The next time you go into the water to swim, 
open your eyes wide. A little fish will come 
there as a messenger from the mermaids to see 
the colour of your eyes. Instead of poster-stamps 
and post-cards, Mermaids collect the colours of 
eyes. They wish to add your eyes to their 
collection and write their colour on the white 
sands on the bottom of the sea. 

A Button — 

This is a button from a beggar man’s coat; 

“ Rich man, Poor man, Beggar man—” I will not 

say thief. What do you wish to be when you 

grow up instead of a thief? 

The Inner Lining of the Seed-pod of Shep¬ 
herd's Purse , {also called honesty or poor 
man's money )— 

This is not a fairy’s wing as you think it is, 
although it is like the wings on which fairies fly. 


DREAM BOATS—PLAY 


215 


When you hold it between your eyes and the 
light it is like a star shining through a cloud. 
Place it in your pocket and when you see a star 
reflected in the water of a lake you will know 
the fairies are near 0 

An Empty Spool — 

If you have a wish to send to the fairies, blow 
it into a bubble through this spool. Send the 
bubble out of the window on a night when the 
moon is full. 

The Cone from a Cedar Tree — 

This is a cone that fell from a tree on which 
berries grow. Birthday candles are made from 
the wax of the berries. It signifies “ The next 
birthday will be the nicest you have ever had.” 

Please ask Robin and David to your party. 

A Bean — 

This is a bean. It did not grow on Jack's 
stalk, it came out of the sea. In many ways it 
is superior to Jack s beans. If you meet a giant 


216 DREAM BOATS —PLAY 

walking down a road, rub it on your forehead 
three times. Suddenly the giant will “about 
face ” and walk off in the opposite direction. 

A Feather from a Guinea-fowl — 

Should there be reported in your neighbour¬ 
hood the news of the arrival of those naughty 
creatures that make you speckled like a guinea- 
hen, I mean Mr. Measles, or Mrs. Freckles, or 
Charlie Chicken-pox, hold this feather over your 
hand, thus. Maybe they will think you are 
properly speckled and pass you by. 

A Feather from a Canary Bird's IVing — 
This is a feather from the wing of a little bird 
named Mose. His mamma trims his claws 
once a week. The perches in his cage are not 
rough like the branches of trees, and so they do 
not manicure his nails in proper Canary fashion. 
It signifies: “When you grow up you will have 
a rising moon in every finger-tip.” I have two 
just coming up on my thumbs. 


DREAM BOATS—PLAY 


217 


Autumn-leaf — 

This is a leaf that has danced down the au¬ 
tumn breezes. With it comes this wish from 
the fairies,—“When you dance may you feel as 
‘dancy’ as a falling leaf.” Pan said: “Nothing 
is quite so dancy.” 

Lucky-penny — 

This signifies good fortune to you from the 
fairies and from Robin Ringlet. 

A Long fiFhite Feather — 

This is a feather from a large bird*s wing. 
Should you come to the little gate that will not 
open, stick the feather behind your left ear, fold 
your arms, and sing the rhyme Mary Chickweed, 
the Seed-woman, sent to Robin Ringlet on his 
fourth birthday, then put the feather into the 
keyhole and the little gate will open. 

A Daffodil — 

This is a flower for the child born on Sunday. 



218 DREAM BOATS —PLAY 

“ The child that is born on the Sabbath day, 

Is bright and bonny, blithe and gay.” 

A green feather from a parrot's wing — 

This is a feather from a parrot who sat in a 
golden ring and said: “Columbia the Gem of 
the Ocean.” He plucked one feather from his 
wing and said: “I send this feather to a little 
girl named Elizabeth.' ’ 

JHhen Davy has given out the last bub - 
ble gift , he returns to them as though 
he expects to find more . IHhen he 
discovers there are no bubbles left , he 
starts to go back into the dream . He 
finds the curtain shutting out the 
dream and turns suddenly . 

Davy . Robin Ringlet has left me, and I have 
strayed out of the wake of his dream. There 
is not a bubble from the fairies left for my 
Mother. Will not someone give me a gift to 
take to my Mother? {As someone in the audi- 


DREAM BOATS —PLAY 219 
ence returns one of the gifts given by Davy.) No, 
never mind, I wanted to know if you were un¬ 
selfish like Robin Ringlet; keep your gift, I will 
carry the gold-fish to her. {He takes up the 
globe of gold-fish and looks at the audience over 
it.) You thought I was not in this play. You 
thought I belonged out there in the audience. 
I have fooled you. I AM in the play. Good¬ 
bye, audience. 

He then retires between the curtains , 
singing: 

“Ringlet, Ringlet, 

Wind a little stringlet, 

Make a little swinglet 
And swing, swing, swing.” 

And if the audience has been a real 
audience , it has been in the play f too. 


THE END 


THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS 
GARDEN CITY, N. Y. 






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